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BROWNIE 


ot  I  o  c.  ft  C  Y  3 ,  K 


NEW  YORK 
McLOUGHLIN    BROTHERS 


COPYR!GHTF.D-!9OS-BY  McLCUCHLIN  BROS. 


A  35 


ADVENTURE  THE  FIRST 

Brownie  and  the  Cook   .........  6 

ADVENTURE  THE  SECOND 

Brownie  and  the  Cherry-tree  .         .         .         .        .         .        .        .         .         .17 

ADVENTURE  THE  THIRD 

Brownie  in  the  Farmyard       ...........       26 

ADVENTURE  THE  FOURTH 

Brownie's  Ride        .............      41 

ADVENTURE  THE  FIFTH 

Brownie  on  the  Ice         ............58 

ADVENTURE  THE  SIXTH  AND  I^AST 

Brownie  and  the  Clothes         ...........      78 

POEMS 
The  Blackbird  and  the  Rooks        .         .        .         .        .         .         .         .         .         .88 

The  Shaking  of  the  Pear-tree         .         . .91 

The  Wonderful  Apple-tree .       95 

The  Jealous  Boy  ....       98 

The  Story  of  the  Birkenhead 99 

Birds  in  the  Snow  ......  .  .     105 

The  Little  Comforter .107 

Don't  Be  Afraid      .....'.'....  .108 

Girl  and  Boy  ...  ....  .     109 

Agnes  at  Prayer      ....  .     110 

Going  to  Work .  .111 

Three  Companions  .  .112 

The  Motherless  Child .113 

The  Wren's  Nest 115 

A  Child's  Smile 116 

Over  the  Hills  and  Far  Away 118 

The  Two  Raindrops .  .     119 

The  Year's  End .        .     120 

Running  After  the  Rainbow .  .121 

Dick  and  I      ......  .  .....     123 

Grandpapa •  •     124 

Monsieur  et  Mademoiselle      .         .         .         .        .         .         .         .         .         .         .125 

Young  DanJelion    .  .  .  .     127 

A  September  Robin .  .128 

261376 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF  A 
BROWNIE 


BROWNIE   AND   THE    COOK 

THERE  was  once  a  little  Brownie,    who  lived — where  do  you 
think  he  lived  ?  in  a  coal-cellar. 

Now  a  coal-cellar  may  seem  a  most  curious  place  to  choose  to  live 
in;  but  then  a  Brownie  is  a  curious  creature — a  fairy,  and  yet  not 
one  of  that  sort  of  fairies  who  fly  about  on  gossamer  wings,  and 
dance  in  the  moonlight,  and  so  on.  He  never  dances;  and  as  to 
wings,  what  use  would  they  be  to  him  in  a  coal-cellar  ?  He  is  a  sober, 
stay-at-home,  household  elf — nothing  much  to  look  at,  even  if  you 
did  see  him,  which  you  are  not  likely  to  do — only  a  little  old  man, 
about  a  foot  high,  all  dressed  in  brown,  with  a  brown  face  and  hands, 
and  a  brown  peaked  cap,  just  the  color  of  a  brown  mouse.  And, 
like  a  mouse,  he  hides  in  corners — especially  kitchen  corners,  and 
only  comes  out  after  dark  when  nobody  is  about,  and  so  sometimes 
people  call  him  Mr.  Nobody. 

I  said  you  were  not  likely  to  see  him.     I  never  did,  certainly,  and 
never  knew  any  body  that  did ;  but  still,  if  you  were  to  go  into  Devon- 


6  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

shire,  you  would  hear  many  funny  stories  about  Brownies  in  general, 
and  so  I  may  as  well  tell  you  the  adventures  of  this  particular  Brownie, 
who  belonged  to  a  family  there;  which  family  he  had  followed  from 
house  to  house,  most  faithfully,  for  years  and  years. 

A  good  many  people  had  heard  him — or  supposed  they  had — 
when  there  were  extraordinary  noises  about  the  house;  noises  which 
must  have  come  from  a  mouse  or  a  rat — or  a  Brownie.  But  nobody 
had  ever  seen  him  except  the  children — the  three  little  boys  and 
three  little  girls — who  declared  he  often  came  to  play  with  them  when 
they  were  alone,  and  was  the  nicest  companion  in  the  world,  though 
he  was  such  an  old  man — hundreds  of  years  old !  He  was  full  of  fun 
and  mischief,  and  up  to  all  sorts  of  tricks,  but  he  never  did  any  body 
any  harm  unless  they  deserved  it. 

Brownie  was  supposed  to  live  under  one  particular  coal,  in  the 
darkest  corner  of  the  cellar,  which  was  never  allowed  to  be  disturbed. 
Why  he  had  chosen  it  nobody  knew,  and  how  he  lived  there,  nobody 
knew  either,  nor  what  he  lived  upon.  Except  that,  ever  since  the 
family  could  remember,  there  had  always  been  a  bowl  of  milk  put 
behind  the  coal-cellar  door  for  the  Brownie's  supper.  Perhaps  he 
drank  it — perhaps  he  didn't:  anyhow,  the  bowl  was  always  found 
empty  next  morning.  The  old  Cook,  who  had  lived  all  her  life  in 
the  family,  had  never  forgotten  to  give  Brownie  his  supper;  but  at 
last  she  died,  and  a  young  cook  came  in  her  stead,  who  was  very 
apt  to  forget  every  thing.  She  was  also  both  careless  and  lazy,  and 
disliked  taking  the  trouble  to  put  a  bowl  of  milk  in  the  same  place 
every  night  for  Mr.  Nobody.  "She  didn't  believe  in  Brownies," 
she  said;  "she  had  never  seen  one,  and  seeing's  believing."  So  she 
laughed  at  the  other  servants,  who  looked  very  grave,  and  put  the 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  7 

bowl  of  milk  in  its  place  as  often  as  they  could,  without  saying  much 
about  it. 

But  once,  when  Brownie  woke  up,  at  his  usual  hour  for  rising — 
ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  looked  round  in  search  of  his  supper — 
which  was,  in  fact,  his  breakfast — he  found  nothing  there  At  first 
he  could  not  imagine  such  neglect,  and  went  smelling  and  smelling 
about  for  his  bowl  of  milk — it  was  not  always  placed  in  the  same 
corner  now — but  in  vain. 

"This  will  never  do,"  said  he;  and  being  extremely  hungry,  began 
running  about  the  coal-cellar  to  see  what  he  could  find.  His  eyes 
were  as  useful  in  the  dark  as  in  the  light — like  a  pussy-cat's;  but 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen — not  even  a  potato  paring,  or  a  dry 
crust,  or  a  well -gnawed  bone,  such  as  Tiny  the  terrier  sometimes 
brought  into  the  coal -cellar  and  left  on  the  floor— nothing,  in  short 
but  heaps  of  coals  and  coal-dust;  and  even  a  Brownie  cannot  eat 
that,  you  know. 

"Can't  stand  this;  quite  impossible!"  said  the  Brownie,  tightening 
his  belt  to  make  his  poor  little  inside  feel  less  empty.  He  had  been 
asleep  so  long— about  a  week,  I  believe,  as  was  his  habit  when  there 
was  nothing  to  do — that  he  seemed  ready  to  eat  his  own  head,  or  his 
boots,  or  any  thing.  *  What's  to  be  done?  Since  nobody  brings 
my  supper,  I  must  go  and  fetch  it. ' 

He  spoke  quickly,  for  he  always  thought  quickly,  and  made  up 
his  mind  in  a  minute.  To  be  sure  it  was  a  very  little  mind, 
like  his  little  body;  but  he  did  the  best  he  could  with  it,  and 
was  not  a  bad  sort  of  old  fellow,  after  all.  In  the  house  he  had 
never  done  any  harm,  and  often  some  good,  for  he  frightened  away 
all  the  rats,  mice,  and  black-beetles.  Not  the  crickets— he  liked 


8  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

them,  as  the  old  Cook  had  done:  she  said  they  were  such  cheerful 
creatures,  and  always  brought  luck  to  the  house.  But  the  young 
Cook  could  not  bear  them,  and  used  to  pour  boiling  water  down  their 
holes,  and  set  basins  of  beer  for  them  with  little  wooden  bridges  up 
to  the  brim,  that  they  might  wralk  up,  tumble  in,  and  be  drowned. 

So  there  was  not  even  a  cricket  singing  in  the  silent  house  when 
Brownie  put  his  head  out  of  his  coal-cellar  door,  which,  to  his  sur- 
prise, he  found  open.  Old  Cook  used  to  lock  it  every  night,  but  the 
young  Cook  had  left  that  key,  and  the  kitchen  and  pantry  keys  too, 
all  dangling  in  the  lock,  so  that  any  thief  might  have  got  in,  and 
wandered  all  over  the  house  without  being  found  out. 

"Hurrah,  here's  luck!"  cried  Browrnie,  tossing  his  cap  up  in  the 
air,  and  bounding  right  through  the  scullery  into  the  kitchen.  It 
was  quite  empty,  but  there  was  a  good  fire  burning  itself  out — just 
for  its  own  amusement,  and  the  remains  of  a  capital  supper  spread 
on  the  table — enough  for  half  a  dozen  people  being  left  still. 

Would  you  like  to  know  what  there  was?  Devonshire  cream,  of 
course;  and  part  of  a  large  dish  of  junket,  which  is  something  like 
curds  and  whey.  Lots  of  bread-and-butter  and  cheese,  and  half 
an  apple-pudding.  Also  a  great  jug  of  cider  and  another  of  milk,  and 
several  half -full  glasses,  and  no  end  of  dirty  plates,  knives,  and  forks. 
All  were  scattered  about  the  table  in  the  most  untidy  fashion,  just 
as  the  servants  had  risen  from  their  supper,  without  thinking  to  put 
any  thing  away. 

Brownie  screwed  up  his  little  old  face  and  turned  up  his  button 
of  a  nose,  and  gave  a  long  whistle.  You  might  not  believe  it,  seeing 
he  lived  in  a  coal-cellar;  but  really  he  liked  tidiness, and  always  played 
his  pranks  upon  disorderly  or  slovenly  folk. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 


He  wanted  hi*  (Upper,  and  oh  !  what  a  supper  he  did  eat  I — Page  1 1 


THE   ADVENTURES   OF   A   BROWNIE  11 

"Whew!"  said  he;    "here's  a  chance.     A\hat  a  supper  I'll  get 


now  i 


And  he  jumped  on  to  a  chair  and  thence  to  the  table,  but  so  quietly 
that  the  large  black  cat  with  four  white  paws,  called  Muff,  because 
she  was  so  fat  and  soft  and  her  fur  so  long,  who  sat  dozing  in  front 
of  the  fire,  just  opened  one  eye  and  went  to  sleep  again  She  had 
tried  to  get  her  nose  into  the  milk-jug,  but  it  was  too  small;  and  the 
j  unket-dish  was  too  deep  for  her  to  reach,  except  with  one  paw.  She 
didn't  care  much  for  bread  and  cheese  and  apple-pudding,  and  was 
very  well  fed  besides;  so,  after  just  wandering  round  the  table,  she 
had  jumped  down  from  it  again,  and  settled  herself  to  sleep  on  the 
hearth. 

But  Brownie  had  no  notion  of  going  to  sleep  He  wanted  his 
supper,  and  oh !  what  a  supper  he  did  eat !  first  one  thing  and  then 
another,  and  then  trying  every  thing  all  over  again  And  oh!  what 
a  lot  he  drank — first  milk  and  then  cider,  and  then  mixed  the  two 
together  in  a  way  that  would  have  disagreed  with  any  body  except 
a  Brownie.  As  it  was,  he  was  obliged  to  slacken  his  belt  several 
times,  and  at  last  took  it  off  altogether.  But  he  must  have  had  a  most 
extraordinary  capacity  for  eating  and  drinking — since,  after  he  had 
nearly  cleared  the  table,  he  was  just  as  lively  as  if  he  had  had  no 
supper  at  all. 

Now  his  jumping  was  a  little  awkward,  for  there  happened  to  be 
a  clean  white  tablecloth:  as  this  was  only  Monday,  it  had  had  no 
time  to  get  dirty — untidy  as  the  Cook  was.  And  you  know  Brownie 
lived  in  a  coal-cellar,  and  his  feet  were  black  with  running  about  in 
coal  dust.  So  wherever  he  trod,  he  left  the  impression  behind,  until 
at  last  the  whole  tablecloth  was  covered  with  black  marks. 


18  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

Not  that  he  minded  this;  in  fact,  he  took  great  pains  to  make  the 
cloth  as  dirty  as  possible;  and  then  laughing  loudly,  "Ho,  ho  ho!" 
leaped  on  to  the  hearth,  and  began  teasing  the  cat;  squeaking  like  a 
mouse,  or  chirping  like  a  cricket,  or  buzzing  like  a  fly ;  and  altogether 
disturbing  poor  Pussy's  mind  so  much,  that  she  went  and  hid  herself 
in  the  farthest  corner,  and  left  him  the  hearth  all  to  himself,  where 
he  lay  at  ease  till  daybreak. 

Then,  hearing  a  slight  noise  overhead.  wyhich  might  be  the  serv- 
ants getting  up,  he  jumped  on  to  the  table  agan — gobbled  up  the 
few  remaining  crumbs  for  his  breakfast,  and  scampered  off  to  his 
coal-cellar;  where  he  hid  himself  under  his  big  coal,  and  fell  asleep 
for  the  day. 

Well,  the  Cook  came  downstairs  rather  earlier  than  usual,  for  she 
remembered  she  had  to  clear  off  the  remains  of  supper;  but  lo  and 
behold,  there  was  nothing  left  to  clear.  Every  bit  of  food  was  eaten 
up — the  cheese  looked  as  if  a  dozen  mice  had  been  nibbling  at  it, 
and  nibbled  it  down  to  the  very  rind;  the  milk  and  cider  were  all 
drunk — and  mice  don't  care  for  milk  and  cider,  you  know.  As  for 
the  apple-pudding,  it  had  vanished  altogether;  and  the  dish  was 
licked  as  clean  as  if  Boxer,  the  yard-dog,  had  been  at  it  in  his  hun- 
griest mood. 

"And  my  white  table-cloth — oh,  my  clean  white  table-cloth! 
What  can  have  been  done  to  it?"  cried  she,  in  amazement.  For  it 
was  all  over  little  black  footmarks,  just  the  size  of  a  baby's  foot — 
only  babies  don't  wear  shoes  with  nails  in  them,  and  don't  run  about 
and  climb  on  kitchen  tables  after  all  the  family  have  gone  to  bed. 

Cook  was  a  little  frightened ;  but  her  fright  changed  to  anger  when 
she  saw  the  large  black  cat  stretched  comfortably  on  the  hearth. 


THE   ADVENTURES   OF  A  BROWNIE 


13 


Poor  Muff  had  crept  there  for  a  little  snooze  after  Brownie  went 
away. 

"You  nasty  cat!  I  see  it  all  now;  it's  you  that  have  eaten  up  all 
the  supper;  it's  you  that  have  been  on  my  clean  table-cloth  with 
your  dirty  paws." 

They  were  white  paws,  and  as 
clean  as  possible;  but  the  Cook 
never  thought  of  that,  any  more 
than  she  did  of  the  fact  that  cats 
don't  usually  drink  cider  or  eat 
apple-pudding. 

"  I'll  teach  you  to  come  stealing 
food  in  this  way;  take  that — and 
that — and  that!" 

Cook  got  hold  of  a  broom  and 
beat  poor  Pussy  till  the  creature 
ran  mewing  away.  She  couldn't 
speak,  you  know — unfortunate 
cat!  and  tell  people  that  it  was 
Brownie  who  had  done  it  all. 

Next  night  Cook  thought  she 
would  make  all  safe  and  sure;  so, 
instead  of  letting  the  cat  sleep  by  cook  beat  poor  Pus,y  tin  the  a«ture  nn 

mewing  away 

the  fire,  she  shut  her  up  in  the  chilly  coal-cellar,  locked  the  door, 
put  the  key  in  her  pocket,  and  went  off  to  bed  —  leaving  the 
supper  as  before. 

When  Brownie  woke  up  and  looked  out  of  his  hole,  there  was,  as 
usual,  no  supper  for  him,  and  the  cellar  was  close  shut.  He  peered 


14  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

about,  to  try  and  find  some  cranny  under  the  door  to  creep  out  at, 
but  there  was  none.  And  he  felt  so  hungry  that  he  could  almost 
have  eaten  the  cat,  who  kept  walking  to  and  fro  in  a  melancholy 
manner — only  she  was  alive,  and  he  couldn't  well  eat  her  alive: 
besides,  he  knew  she  was  old,  and  had  an  idea  she  might  be  tough; 
so  he  merely  said,  politely,  "How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Pussy?"  to  which 
she  answered  nothing — of  course. 

Something  must  be  done,  and  luckily  Brownies  can  do  things 
which  nobody  else  can  do.  So  he  thought  he  would  change  himself 
into  a  mouse,  and  gnaw  a  hole  through  the  door.  But  then  he  sud- 
denly remembered  the  cat,  who,  though  he  had  decided  not  to  eat 
her,  might  take  this  opportunity  of  eating  him.  So  he  thought  it 
advisable  to  wait  till  she  was  fast  asleep,  which  did  not  happen  for 
a  good  while.  At  length,  quite  tired  with  walking  about,  Pussy 
turned  round  on  her  tail  six  times,  curled  down  in  a  corner,  and  fell 
fast  asleep. 

Immediately  Brownie  changed  himself  into  the  smallest  mouse 
possible;  and,  taking  care  not  to  make  the  least  noise,  gnawed  a 
hole  in  the  door,  and  squeezed  himself  through,  immediately  turning 
into  his  proper  shape  again,  for  fear  of  accidents. 

The  kitchen  fire  was  at  its  last  glimmer;  but  it  showed  a  better 
supper  than  even  last  night,  for  the  Cook  had  had  friends  with  her — 
a  brother  and  two  cousins — and  they  had  been  exceedingly  merry. 
The  food  they  had  left  behind  was  enough  for  three  Brownies  at 
least,  but  this  one  managed  to  eat  it  all  up.  Only  once,  in  trying  to 
cut  a  great  slice  of  beef,  he  let  the  carving-knife  and  fork  fall  with 
such  a  clatter,  that  Tiny  the  terrier,  who  was  tied  up  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  began  to  bark  furiously.  However,  he  brought  her  her 


THE  ADVENTURES   OF  A  BROWNIE  15 

puppy,  which  had  been  left  in  a  basket  in  a  corner  of  the  kitchen,  and 
so  succeeded  in  quieting  her. 

After  that  he  enjoyed  himself  amazingly,  and  made  more  marks 
than  ever  on  the  white  table-cloth;  for  he  began  jumping  about  like 
a  pea  on  a  trencher,  in  order  to  make  his  particularly  large  supper 
agree  with  him. 

Then,  in  the  absence  of  the  cat,  he  teased  the  puppy  for  an  hour  or 
two,  till  hearing  the  clock  strike  five,  he  thought  it  as  well  to  turn  into 
a  mouse  again,  and  creep  back  cautiously  into  his  cellar.  He  was 
only  just  in  time,  for  Muff  opened  one  eye,  and  was  just  going  to 
pounce  upon  him,  when  he  changed  himself  back  into  a  Brownie. 
She  was  so  startled  that  she  bounded  away,  her  tail  growing  into 
twice  its  natural  size,  and  her  eyes  gleaming  like  round  green  globes. 
But  Brownie  only  said,  "Ha,  ha,  ho!"  and  walked  deliberately  into 
his  hole. 

When  Cook  came  downstairs  and  saw  that  the  same  thing  had 
happened  again — that  the  supper  was  all  eaten,  and  the  table-cloth 
blacker  than  ever  with  the  extraordinary  footmarks,  she  was  greatly 
puzzled.  Who  could  have  done  it  all  ?  Not  the  cat,  who  came  mew- 
ing out  of  the  coal-cellar  the  minute  she  unlocked  the  door.  Possibly 
a  rat — but  then  would  a  rat  have  come  within  reach  of  Tiny  ? 

"It  must  have  been  Tiny  herself,  or  her  puppy,"  which  just  came 
rolling  out  of  its  basket  over  Cook's  feet.  "You  little  wretch!  You 
and  your  mother  are  the  greatest  nuisance  imaginable.  I'll  punish 
you!" 

And,  quite  forgetting  that  Tiny  had  been  safely  tied  up  all  night, 
and  that  her  poor  little  puppy  was  so  fat  and  helpless  it  could  scarcely 
stand  on  its  legs,  to  say  nothing  of  jumping  on  chairs  ahd  tables, 


l«  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

she  gave  them  both  such  a  thrashing  that  they  ran  howling  together 
out  of  the  kitchen  door,  where  the  kind  little  kitchen-maid  took 
them  up  in  her  arms. 

"You  ought  to  have  beaten  the  Brownie,  if  you  could  catch  him," 
said  she,  in  a  whisper.  "He  will  do  it  again  and  again,  you'll  see, 
for  he  can't  bear  an  untidy  kitchen.  You'd  better  do  as  poor  old 
Cook  did,  and  clear  the  supper  things  away,  and  put  the  odds  and 
ends  safe  in  the  larder;  also,"  she  added,  mysteriously,  "if  I  were 
you,  I'd  put  a  bowl  of  milk  behind  the  coal-cellar  door." 

"Nonsense!"  answered  the  young  Cook,  and  flounced  away. 
But  afterward  she  thought  better  of  it,  and  did  as  she  was  advised, 
grumbling  all  the  time,  but  doing  it. 

Next  morning  the  milk  was  gone!  Perhaps  Brownie  had  drunk 
it  up,  anyhow  nobody  could  say  that  he  hadn't.  As  for  the  supper, 
Cook  having  safely  laid  it  on  the  shelves  of  the  larder,  nobody  touched 
it.  And  the  table-cloth,  which  was  wrapped  up  tidily  and  put  hi  the 
dresser  drawer,  came  out  as  clean  as  ever,  with  not  a  single  black 
footmark  upon  it.  No  mischief  being  done,  the  cat  and  the  dog 
both  escaped  beating,  and  Brownie  played  no  more  tricks  with 
any  body — till  the  next  time. 


BROWNIE    AND   THE    CHERRY-TREE 


THE 
e 


next  time"  was  quick  in 
coming,  which  was  not  wonder- 
ful, considering  there  was  a  Brownie  in  the  house.  Otherwise  the 
house  was  like  most  other  houses,  and  the  family  like  most  other 
famiMes.  The  children  also:  they  were  sometimes  good,  sometimes 
naughty,  like  other  children;  but,  on  the  whole,  they  deserved  to 
have  the  pleasure  of  a  Brownie  to  play  with  them,  as  they  declared 
he  did — many  and  many  a  time. 

A  favorite  play-place  was  the  orchard,  where  grew  the  biggest 
cherry-tree  you  ever  saw.  They  called  it  their  "castle,"  because 
it  rose  up  ten  feet  from  the  ground  in  one  thick  stem,  and  then  branched 
out  into  a  circle  of  boughs,  with  a  flat  place  in  the  middle,  where  two 
or  three  children  could  sit  at  once.  There  they  often  did  sit,  turn 
by  turn,  or  one  at  a  time — sometimes  with  a  book,  reading;  and  the 
biggest  boy  made  a  sort  of  rope-ladder  by  which  they  could  climb  up 
and  down —  which  they  did  all  winter,  and  enjoyed  their  "castle" 
very  much. 

But  one  day  in  spring  they  found  their  ladder  cut  away!     The 

17 


18  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

Gardener  had  done  it,  saying  it  injured  the  tree,  which  was  just 
coming  into  blossom.  Now  this  Gardener  was  a  rather  gruff  man, 
with  a  growling  voice.  He  did  not  mean  to  be  unkind,  but  he  dis- 
liked children;  he  said  they  bothered  him.  But  when  they  com- 
plained to  their  mother  about  the  ladder,  she  agreed  with  Gardener 
that  the  tree  must  not  be  injured,  as  it  bore  the  biggest  cherries  in 
all  the  neighborhood — so  big  that  the  old  saying  of  "taking  two 
bites  at  a  cherry,"  came  really  true. 

"Wait  till  the  cherries  are  ripe,"  said  she;  and  so  the  little  people 
waited,  and  watched  it  through  its  leafing  and  blossoming — such 
sheets  of  blossom,  white  as  snow! — till  the  fruit  began  to  show,  and 
grew  large  and  red  on  every  bough. 

At  last  one  morning  the  mother  said,  "Children,  should  you  like 
to  help  gather  the  cherries  to-day  ?" 

"Hurrah!"  they  cried,  "and  not  a  day  too  soon;  for  we  saw  a 
flock  of  starlings  in  the  next  field — and  if  we  don't  clear  the  tree, 
they  will." 

"Very  well;  clear  it,  then.  Only  mind  and  fill  my  basket  quite 
full,  for  preserving.  What  is  over  you  may  eat,  if  you  like. " 

"Thank  you,  thank  you!"  and  the  children  were  eager  to  be  off; 
but  the  mother  stopped  them  till  she  could  get  the  Gardener  and 
his  ladder. 

"For  it  is  he  must  climb  the  tree,  not  you;  and  you  must  do  exactly 
as  he  tells  you;  and  he  will  stop  with  you  all  the  time  and  see  that 
you  don't  come  to  harm." 

This  was  no  slight  cloud  on  the  children's  happiness,  and  they 
begged  hard  to  go  alone. 

"  Please,  might  we  ?    We  will  be  so  good. ! " 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 


When  the  Gardener  wa*  steadying  hit  ladder  against  the  bunk  cf  the  cheny-tiec 

The  mother  shook  her  head.  All  the  goodness  in  the  world  would 
not  help  them  if  they  tumbled  off  the  tree,  or  ate  themselves  sick  with 
cherries.  "You  would  not  be  safe,  and  I  should  be  so  unhappy!" 

To  make  mother  "unhappy"  was  the  worst  rebuke  possible  to 
these  children;  so  they  choked  down  their  disappointment,  and 
followed  the  Gardener  as  he  walked  on  ahead,  carrying  his  ladder 
on  his  shoulder.  He  looked  very  cross,  and  as  if  he  did  not  like  the 
children's  company  at  all. 

They  were  pretty  good,  on  the  whole,  though  they  chattered 
a  good  deal;  but  Gardener  said  not  a  word  to  them  all  the  way  to 
the  orchard.  When  they  reached  it,  he  just  told  them  to  "keep  out 
of  his  way  and  not  worrit  him,"  which  they  politely  promised,  say- 
ing among  themselves  that  they  should  not  enjoy  their  cherry- 
gathering  at  all.  But  children  who  make  the  best  of  things,  and 
try  to  be  as  good  as  they  can,  sometimes  have  fun  unawares. 

When  the  Gardener  was  steadying  his  ladder  against  the  trunk 
of  the  cherry-tree,  there  was  suddenly  heard  the  barking  of  a  dog, 


20  THE   ADVENTURES  OF  A   BROWNIE 

and  a  very  fierce  dog,  too.     First  it  seemed  close  beside  them,  then 
in  the  flower-garden,  then  in  the  fowl-yard. 

Gardener  dropped  the  ladder  out  of  his  hands.  "It's  that  Boxer! 
He  has  got  loose  again!  He  will  be  running  after  my  chickens, 
and  dragging  his  broken  chain  all  over  my  borders.  And  he  is  so 
fierce,  and  so  delighted  to  get  free.  He'll  bite  any  body  who  ties 
him  up,  except  me. " 

"Hadn't  you  better  you  go  and  see  after  him ?" 

Gardener  thought  it  was  the  eldest  boy  who  spoke,  and  turned 
round  angrily;  but  the  little  fellow  had  never  opened  his  lips. 

Here  there  was  heard  a  still  louder  bark,  and  from  a  quite  different 
part  of  the  garden. 

"There  he   is — I'm  sure  of  it!  jumping  over  my  bedding-out 
plants,  and  breaking  my  cucumber  frames.     Abominable  beast!— 
just  let  me  catch  him!"     Off  Gardener  darted  in  a  violent  passion, 
throwing  the  ladder  down  upon  the  grass,  and  forgetting  all  about 
the  cherries  and  the  children. 

The  instant  he  was  gone,  a  shrill  laugh,  loud  and  merry,  was  heard 
close  by,  and  a  little  brown  old  man's  face  peeped  from  behind  the 
cherry-tree. 

"How  d'ye  do? — Boxer  was  me.  Didn't  I  bark  well?  Now 
I'm  come  to  play  with  you." 

The  children  clapped  their  hands;  for  they  knew  they  were  going 
to  have  some  fun  if  Brownie  was  there — he  was  the  best  little  play- 
fellow in  the  world.  And  then  they  had  him  all  to  themselves. 
Nobody  ever  saw  him  except  the  children. 

"Come  on!"  cried  he,  in  his  shrill  voice,  half  like  an  old  man's, 
half  like  a  baby's.  "Who'll  begin  to  gather  the  cherries  ?" 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A 


A  little  brown  old  man's  face  peeped  from  behind  the  cherry-tree. — Page  20 


THE  ADVENTURES  9F  A  BROWNIE  ts 

They  all  looked  blank;  for  the  tree  was  so  high  to  where  the 
branches  sprang,  and  besides,  their  mother  had  said  they  were  not 
to  climb.  And  the  ladder  lay  flat  upon  the  grass — far  too  heavy 
for  little  hands  to  move. 

"What!  you  big  boys  don't  expect  a  poor  little  fellow  like  me  to 
lift  the  ladder  all  by  myself  ?  Try !  I'll  help  you. " 

Whether  he  helped  or  not,  no  sooner  had  they  taken  hold  of  the 
ladder  than  it  rose  up,  almost  of  its  own  accord,  and  fixed  itself  quite 
safely  against  the  tree. 

"But  we  must  not  climb — mother  told  us  not,"  said  the  boys, 
ruefully.  "Mother  said  we  were  to  stand  at  the  bottom  and  pick 
up  the  cherries." 

"  Very  well.      Obey  your  mother.     I'll  just  run  up  the  tree  myself. ' ' 

Before  the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth  Brownie  darted  up  the 
ladder  like  a  monkey,  and  disappeared  among  the  fruit-laden  branches. 

The  children  looked  dismayed  for  a  minute,  till  they  saw  a  merry 
brown  face  peeping  out  from  the  green  leaves  at  the  very  top  of 
the  tree. 

"Biggest  fruit  always  grows  highest,"  cried  the  Brownie.  "Stand 
in  a  row,  all  you  children.  Little  boys,  hold  out  your  caps:  little 
girls,  make  a  bag  of  your  pinafores.  Open  your  mouths  and  shut 
your  eyes,  and  see  what  the  queen  will  send  you. " 

They  laughed  and  did  as  they  were  told;  whereupon  they  were 
drowned  in  a  shower  of  cherries — cherries  falling  like  hailstones, 
hitting  them  on  their  heads,  their  cheeks,  their  noses — filling  their 
caps  and  pinafores,  and  then  rolling  and  tumbling  on  to  the  grass, 
till  it  was  strewn  thick  as  leaves  in  autumn  with  the  rosy  fruit. 

What  a  glorious  scramble  they  had — the*e  three  little  boys  and 


24  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

three  little  girls!  How  they  laughed  and  jumped  and  knocked 
their  heads  together  in  picking  up  the  cherries,  yet  never  quarreled — 
for  there  were  such  heaps,  it  would  have  been  ridiculous  to  squabble 
over  them;  and  besides,  whenever  they  began  to  quarrel,  Brownie 
always  ran  away.  Now  he  was  the  merriest  of  the  lot;  ran  up  and 
down  the  tree  like  a  cat,  helped  to  pick  up  the  cherries,  and  was 
first-rate  at  filling  the  large  market-basket. 

"We  were  to  eat  as  many  as  we  liked,  only  we  must  first  fill  the 
basket,"  conscientiously  said  the  eldest  girl;  upon  which  they  all  set 
to  at  once,  and  filled  it  to  the  brim. 

"Now  we'll  have  a  dinner-party,"  cried  the  Brownie;  and  squatted 
down  like  a  Turk,  crossed  his  queer  little  legs,  and  sticking  his 
elbows  upon  his  knees,  in  a  way  that  nobody  but  a  Brownie  could  man- 
age. "Sit  in  a  ring!  sit  in  a  ring!  and  we'll  see  who  can  eat  fastest." 

The  children  obeyed.  How  many  cherries  they  devoured,  and 
how  fast  they  did  it,  passes  my  capacity  of  telling.  I  only  hope  they 
were  not  ill  next  day,  and  that  all  the  cherry-stones  they  swallowed 
by  mistake  did  not  disagree  with  them.  But  perhaps  nothing  does 
disagree  with  one  when  one  dines  with  a  Brownie.  They  ate  so 
much,  laughing  in  equal  proportion,  that  they  had  quite  forgotten 
the  Gardener — when,  all  of  a  sudden,  they  heard  him  clicking  angrily 
the  orchard  gate,  and  talking  to  himself  as  he  walked  through. 

"That  nasty  dog!  It  wasn't  Boxer,  after  all.  A  nice  joke!  to 
find  him  quietly  asleep  in  his  kennel  after  having  hunted  him,  as  I 
thought,  from  one  end  of  the  garden  to  the  other!  Now  for  the 
cherries  and  the  children — bless  us,  where  are  the  children  ?  And 
the  cherries  ?  Why,  the  tree  is  as  bare  as  a  blackthorn  in  February ! 
The  starlings  have  been  at  it,  after  all.  Oh  dear!  oh  dear!" 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  25 

"Oh  dear!  oh  dear!"  echoed  a  voice  from  behind  the  tree,  followed 
by  shouts  of  mocking  laughter.  Not  from  the  children — they  sat 
as  demure  as  possible,  all  in  a  ring,  with  their  hands  before  them, 
and  in  the  centre  the  huge  basket  of  cherries,  piled  as  full  as  it  could 
possibly  hold.  But  the  Brownie  had  disappeared. 

"You  naughty  brats,  I'll  have  you  punished!"  cried  the  Gradener, 
furious  at  the  laughter,  for  he  never  laughed  himself.     But  as  there 
was  nothing  wrong;  the  cherries  being  gathered — a  very  large  crop— 
and  the  ladder  found  safe  in  its  place — it  was  difficult  to  say  what 
had  been  the  harm  done  and  who  had  done  it. 

So  he  went  growling  back  to  the  house,  carrying  the  cherries  to 
the  mistress,  who  coaxed  him  into  good  temper  again,  as  she  some- 
times did;  bidding  also  the  children  to  behave  well  to  him,  since 
he  was  an  old  man,  and  not  really  bad — only  cross.  As  for  the 
little  folks,  she  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  punishing  them; 
and,  as  for  Brownie,  it  was  impossible  to  catch  him.  So  nobody 
was  punished  at  all. 


ADVENTURE  THE  THIRD 

BROWNIE    IN    THE    FARMYARD 


W 


'HIGH  was  a  place  where  he 
did  not  often  go,  for  he 
preferred  being  warm  and  snug  in  the  house.  But  when  he  felt 
himself  ill-used,  he  would  wander  anywhere,  in  order  to  play  tricks 
upon  those  whom  he  thought  had  done  him  harm;  for,  being  only  a 
Brownie,  and  not  a  man,  he  did  not  understand  that  the  best  way 
to  revenge  yourself  upon  your  enemies  is  either  to  let  them  alone  or 
to  pay  them  back  good  for  evil— it  disappoints  them  so  much,  and 
makes  them  so  exceedingly  ashamed  of  themselves. 

One  day  Brownie  overheard  the  Gardener  advising  the  Cook  to 
put  sour  milk  into  his  bowl  at  night,  instead  of  sweet. 

"He'd  never  find  out  the  difference,  no  more  than  the  pigs  do. 
Indeed,  it's  my  belief  that  a  pig,  or  dog,  or  something,  empties  the  bowl, 
and  not  a  Brownie,  at  all.  It's  just  clean  waste — that's  what  I  say." 

''Then  you'd  better  hold  your  tongue,  and  mind  your  own  busi- 
ness," returned  the  Cook,  who  was  of  a  sharp  temper,  and  would 
not  stand  being  meddled  with.  She  began  to  abuse  the  Gardener 
soundly;  but  his  wife,  who  was  standing  by,  took  his  part,  as  she 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  «7 

always  did  when  any  third  party  scolded  him.  So  they  all  squabbled 
together,  till  Brownie,  hid  under  his  coal,  put  his  little  hands  over 
his  little  ears. 

"Dear  me,  what  a  noise  these  mortals  do  make  when  they  quarrel! 
They  quite  deafen  me.  I  must  teach  them  better  manners." 

But  when  the  Cook  slammed  the  door  to,  and  left  Gardener  and 
his  wife  alone,  they  too  began  to  dispute  between  themselves. 

*  You  make  such  a  fuss  over  your  nasty  pigs,  and  get  all  the  scraps 
for  them,"  said  the  wife.  "It's  of  much  more  importance  that  I 
should  have  everything  Cook  can  spare  for  my  chickens.  Never 
were  such  fine  chickens  as  my  last  brood!" 

"I  thought  they  were  ducklings." 

"How  you  catch  me  up,  you  rude  old  man!  They  are  ducklings, 
and  beauties,  too — even  though  they  have  never  seen  water.  Where's 
the  pond  you  promised  to  make  for  me,  I  wonder  ?" 

"Rubbish,  woman!  If  my  cows  do  without  a  pond,  your  duck- 
lings may.  And  why  will  you  be  so  silly  as  to  rear  ducklings  at  all  ? 
Fine  fat  chickens  are  a  deal  better.  You'll  find  out  your  mistake 
some  day." 

"And  so  will  you  when  that  old  Alderney  runs  dry.  You'll  wish 
you  had  taken  my  advice,  and  fattened  and  sold  her." 

"Alderney  cows  won't  sell  for  fattening,  and  women's  advice  is 
never  worth  twopence.  Yours  isn't  worth  even  a  half-penny.  What 
are  you  laughing  at  ?" 

"I  wasn't  laughing,"  said  the  wife,  angrily;  and,  in  truth,  it  was 
not  she,  but  little  Brownie,  running  under  the  barrow  which  the 
Gardener  was  wheeling  along,  and  very  much  amused  that  people 
should  be  so  silly  as  to  squabble  about  nothing. 


t8  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

It  was  still  early  morning;  for,  whatever  this  old  couple's  faults 
might  be,  laziness  was  not  one  of  them.  The  wife  rose  with  the 
dawn  to  feed  her  poultry  and  collect  her  eggs;  the  husband  also  got 
through  as  much  work  by  breakfast-time  as  many  an  idle  man 
does  by  noon.  But  Brownie  had  been  beforehand  with  them  this 
day. 

When  all  the  fowls  came  running  to  be  fed,  the  big  Brahma  hen 
who  had  watched  the  ducklings  was  seen  wandering  forlornly  about, 
and  clucking  mournfully  for  her  young  brood — she  could  not  find 
them  anywhere.  Had  she  been  able  to  speak,  she  might  have  told 
how  a  large  white  Aylesbury  duck  had  waddled  into  the  farmyard, 
and  waddled  out  again,  coaxing  them  after  her,  no  doubt  in  search 
of  a  pond.  But  missing  they  were,  most  certainly. 

"Cluck,  cluck,  cluck!"  mourned  the  miserable  hen-mother — and, 
"Oh,  my  ducklings,  my  ducklings!"  cried  the  Gardener's  wife — 
"Who  can  have  carried  off  my  beautiful  ducklings  ?" 

"Rats,  maybe,"  said  the  Gardener,  cruelly,  as  he  walked  away. 
And  as  he  went  he  heard  the  squeak  of  a  rat  below  his  wheelbarrow. 
But  he  could  not  catch  it,  any  more  than  his  wife  could  catch  the 
Aylesbury  duck.  Of  course  not.  Both  were — the  Brownie! 

Just  at  this  moment  the  six  little  people  came  running  into  the 
farmyard.  When  they  had  been  particularly  good,  they  were  some- 
times allowed  to  go  with  Gardener  a-milking,  each  carrying  his  or 
her  own  mug  for  a  drink  of  milk,  warm  from  the  cow.  They  scam- 
pered after  him — a  noisy  tribe,  begging  to  be  taken  down  to  the  field, 
and  holding  out  their  six  mugs  entreatingly. 

"What!  six  cupfuls  of  milk,  when  I  haven't  a  drop  to  spare,  and 
Cook  is  always  wanting  more?  Ridiculous  nonsense!  Get  along 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 


A  noisy  tribe,  holding  out  their  six  mugs  entreating!/. 

with  you ;  you  may  come  to  the  field — I  can't  hinder  that — but  you'll 
get  110  milk  to-day.  Take  your  mugs  back  again  to  the  kitchen. " 

The  poor  little  folks  made  the  best  of  a  bad  business,  and  obeyed; 
then  followed  Gardener  down  to  the  field,  rather  dolefully.  But 
it  was  such  a  beautiful  morning  that  they  soon  recovered  their  spirits. 
The  grass  shown  with  dew,  like  a  sheet  of  diamonds,  the  clover 
smelled  so  sweet,  and  two  skylarks  were  singing  at  one  another 
high  up  in  the  sky.  Several  rabbits  darted  past,  to  their  great 
amusement,  especially  one  very  large  rabbit — brown,  not  gray — 
which  dodged  them  in  and  out,  and  once  nearly  threw  Gardener 
down,  pail  and  all,  by  running  across  his  feet;  which  set  them  all 
laughing,  till  they  came  where  Dolly,  the  cow,  lay  chewing  the  cud 
under  a  large  oak-tree. 

It  was  great  fun  to  stir  her  up,  as  usual,  and  lie  down,  one  after 
the  other,  in  the  place  where  she  had  lain  all  night  long,  making 
the  grass  flat,  and  warm,  and  perfumy  with  her  sweet  breath.  She 
let  them  do  it,  and  then  stood  meekly  by;  for  Dolly  was  the  gentlest 
cow  in  the  world. 


30  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

But  this  morning  something  strange  seemed  to  possess  her.  She 
altogether  refused  to  be  milked — kicked,  plunged,  tossed  over  the 
pail,  which  was  luckily  empty. 

"Bless  the  cow!  what's  wrong  with  her  ?  It's  surely  you  children's 
fault.  Stand  off,  the  whole  lot  of  you.  Soh,  Dolly!  good  Dolly!" 

But  Dolly  was  any  thing  but  good.  She  stood  switching  her  tail, 
and  looking  as  savage  as  so  mild  an  animal  possibly  could  look. 

"It's  all  your  doing,  you  naughty  children!  You  have  been 
playing  her  some  trick,  I  know,"  cried  the  Gardener,  in  great  wrath. 

They  assured  him  they  had  done  nothing,  and  indeed,  they  looked 
as  quiet  as  nice  and  as  innocent  as  lambs.  At  length  the  biggest 
boy  pointed  out  a  large  wasp  which  had  settled  in  Dolly's  ear. 

"That  accounts  for  everything,"  said  the  Gardener. 

But  it  did  not  mend  everything;  for  when  he  tried  to  drive  it  away 
it  kept  coming  back  and  back  again,  and  buzzing  round  his  own 
head  and  the  cow's  with  a  voice  that  the  children  thought  was  less 
like  a  buzz  of  a  wasp  than  the  sound  of  a  person  laughing.  At 
length  it  frightened  Dolly  to  such  an  extent  that,  with  one  wild 
bound  she  darted  right  away,  and  galloped  off  to  the  farther  end  of 
the  field. 

"I'll  get  a  rope  and  tie  her  legs  together,"  cried  the  Gardener, 
fiercely.  "She  shall  repent  giving  me  all  this  trouble — that  she 
shall!" 

"Ha,  ha,  ha!"  laughed  somebody.  The  Gardener  thought  it 
was  the  children,  and  gave  one  of  them  an  angry  cuff  as  he  walked 
away.  But  they  knew  it  was  somebody  else,  and  were  not  at  all 
surprised  when,  the  minute  his  back  was  turned,  Dolly  came  walking 
quietly  back,  led  by  a  little  wee  brown  man  who  scarcely  reached  up 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  $1 

to  her  knees.  Yet  she  let  him  guide  her,  which  he  did  as  gently 
as  possible,  though  the  string  he  held  her  by  was  no  thicker  than  a 
spider  web,  floating  from  one  of  her  horns. 

"Soh,  Dolly!  good  Dolly!"  cried  Brownie,  mimicking  the  Gar- 
dener's voice.     "  Now  we'll  see  what  we  can  do.     I  want  my  break 
fast  badly— don't  you,  little  folks  ?" 

Of  course  they  did,  for  the  morning  air  made  them  very  hungry. 

"Very  well — wait  a  bit,  though.  Old  people  should  b*  served 
first,  you  know.  Besides,  I  want  to  go  to  bed. " 

"Go  to  bed  in  the  daylight!  The  children  all  laughed,  and  then 
looked  quite  shy  and  sorry,  lest  they  might  have  seemed  rude  to 
the  little  Brownie.  But  he — he  liked  fun;  and  never  took  offence 
when  none  was  meant. 

He  placed  himself  on  the  milking-stool,  which  was  so  high  that 
his  little  legs  were  dangling  half-way  down,  and  milked  and  milked — 
Dolly  standing  as  still  as  possible — till  he  had  filled  the  whole  pail. 
Most  astonishing  cow!  she  gave  as  much  as  two  cows;  and  such 
delicious  milk  as  it  was — all  frothing  and  yellow — richer  than  even 
Dolly's  milk  had  ever  been  before.  The  children's  mouths  watered 
for  it,  but  not  a  word  said  they — even  when,  instead  of  giving  it  to 
them,  Brownie  put  his  own  mouth  to  the  pail,  and  drank  and  drank, 
till  it  seemed  as  if  he  were  never  going  to  stop.  But  it  was  decidedly 
a  relief  to  them  when  he  popped  his  head  up  again,  and  lo!  the  pail 
was  as  full  as  ever! 

"  Now,  little  ones,  now's  your  turn.     Where  are  your  mugs  ?  " 

All  answered  mournfully,  "We've  got  none.  Gardener  made  us 
take  them  back  again." 

"Never  mind — all  right.  Gather  me  half  a  dozen  of  the  biggest 
buttercups  you  can  find." 


3*  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

"What  nonsense!"  thought  the  children;  but  they  did  it.  Brownie 
laid  the  flowers  in  a  row  upon  the  eldest  girl's  lap — blew  upon  them 
one  by  one,  and  each  turned  into  the  most  beautiful  golden  cup  that 
ever  was  seen ! 

"Now,  then,  every  one  take  his  own  mug,  and  I'll  fill  it." 

He  milked  away — each  child  got  a  drink,  and  then  the  cups  were 
filled  again.  And  all  the  while  Dolly  stood  as  quiet  as  possible — 
looking  benignly  round,  as  if  she  would  be  happy  to  supply  milk  to 
the  whole  parish,  if  the  Brownie  desired  it. 

"Soh,  Dolly!  Thank  you,  Dolly!"  said  he,  again,  mimicking  the 
Gardener's  voice,  half  growling,  half  coaxing.  And  while  he  spoke, 
the  real  voice  was  heard  behind  the  hedge.  There  was  a  sound 
as  of  a  great  wasp  flying  away,  which  made  Dolly  prick  up  her  ears, 
and  look  as  it  the  old  savageness  was  coming  back  upon  her.  The 
children  snatched  up  their  mugs,  but  there  was  no  need,  they  had  all 
turned  into  buttercups  again. 

Gardener  jumped  over  the  stile,  as  cross  as  two  sticks,  with  an  old 
rope  in  his  hand. 

"Oh,  what  a  bother  I've  had!  Breakfast  ready,  and  no  milk  yet 
— and  such  a  row  as  they  are  making  over  those  lost  ducklings. 
Stand  back,  you  children,  and  don't  hinder  me  a  minute.  No  use 
begging — not  a  drop  of  milk  shall  you  get.  Hillo,  Dolly?  Quiet 
old  girl!" 

Quiet  enough  she  was  this  time — but  you  might  as  well  have  milked 
a  plaster  cow  in  a  London  milking-shop.  Not  one  ringing  drop 
resounded  against  the  empty  pail;  for,  when  they  peeped  in,  the 
children  saw,  to  their  amazement,  that  it  was  empty. 

"The  creature's  bewitched!"  cried  the  Gardener,  in  a  great  fury. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNlE 


38 


Each  child  got  a  drink,  and  then  the  cups  were  filled  again.—  -Page  32 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  85 

"  Or  else  somebody  has  milked  her  dry  already.  Have  you  done  it  ? 
or  you?"  he  asked  each  of  the  children. 

They  might  have  said  No — which  was  the  literal  truth — but  then 
it  would  not  have  been  the  whole  truth,  for  they  knew  quite  well  that 
Dolly  had  been  milked,  and  also  who  had  done  it.  And  their  mother 
had  always  taught  them  that  to  make  a  person  believe  a  lie  is  nearly 
as  bad  as  telling  him  one.  Yet  still  they  did  not  like  to  betray  the 
kind  little  Brownie.  Greatly  puzzled,  they  hung  their  heads  and 
said  nothing. 

"Look  in  your  pail  again,"  cried  a  voice  from  the  other  side  of 
Dolly.  And  there  at  the  bottom  was  just  the  usual  quantity  of  milk 
— no  more  and  no  less. 

The  Gardener  was  very  much  astonished.  "It  must  be  the 
Brownie!"  muttered  he,  in  a  frightened  tone;  and,  taking  off  his  hat, 
"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  he  to  Mr.  Nobody — at  which  the  children 
all  burst  out  laughing.  But  they  kept  their  own  counsel,  and  he 
was  afraid  to  ask  them  any  more  questions. 

By-and-by  his  fright  wore  off  a  little.  "I  only  hope  the  milk  is 
good  milk,  and  will  poison  nobody,"  said  he,  sulkily.  "However, 
that's  not  my  affair.  You  children  had  better  tell  your  mother  all 
about  it.  I  left  her  in  the  farmyard  in  a  pretty  sate  of  mind  about 
her  ducklings." 

Perhaps  Brownie  heard  this,  and  was  sorry,  for  he  liked  the  chil- 
dren's mother,  who  had  always  been  kind  to  him.  Besides,  he 
never  did  any  body  harm  who  did  not  deserve  it;  and  though,  being 
a  Brownie,  he  could  hardly  be  said  to  have  a  conscience,  he  had 
something  which  stood  in  the  place  of  one — a  liking  to  see  people 
happy  rather  than  miserable. 


36  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

So,  instead  of  going  to  bed  under  his  big  coal  for  the  day,  when, 
after  breakfast,  the  children  and  their  mother  came  out  to  look  at  a 
new  brood  of  chickens,  he  crept  after  them  and  hid  behind  the  hen- 
coop where  the  old  mother-hen  was  put,  with  her  young  ones  round 
her. 

There  had  been  great  difficulty  in  getting  her  in  there,  for  she  was 
a  hen  who  hatched  her  brood  on  independent  principles.  Instead 
of  sitting  upon  the  nice  nest  that  the  Gardener  made  for  her,  she 
had  twice  gone  into  a  little  wood  close  by  and  made  a  nest  for  herself, 
which  nobody  could  ever  find;  and  where  she  hatched  in  secret, 
coming  every  second  day  to  be  fed,  and  then  vanishing  again,  till  at 
last  she  re-appeared  in  triumph,  with  her  chickens  running  after  her. 
The  first  brood  there  had  been  twelve,  but  of  this  there  were  fourteen 
— all  from  her  own  eggs,  of  course,  and  she  was  uncommonly  proud 
of  them.  So  was  the  Gardener,  so  was  the  mistress — who  like  all 
young  things.  Such  a  picture  as  they  were!  fourteen  soft,  yellow, 
fluffy  things,  running  about  after  their  mother.  It  had  been  a  most 
troublesome  business  to  catch — first  her,  and  then  them,  to  put  them 
under  the  coop.  The  old  hen  resisted,  and  pecked  furiously  at 
Gardener's  legs,  and  the  chickens  ran  about  in  frantic  terror,  chirping 
wildly  in  answer  to  her  clucking. 

At  last,  however,  the  little  family  was  safe  in  shelter,  and  the 
chickens  counted  over,  to  see  that  none  had  been  lost  in  the  scuffle. 
How  funny  they  were !  looking  so  innocent  and  yet  so  wise,  as  chickens 
do — peering  out  at  the  world  from  under  their  mother's  wing,  or 
hopping  over  her  back,  or  snuggled  all  together  under  her  breast, 
so  that  nothing  was  seen  of  them  but  a  mass  of  yellow  legs,  like  a 
great  centiped. 


37 

"How  happy  the  old  hen  is,'*  said  the  children's  mother,  looking 
on,  and  then  looking  compassionately  at  that  other  forlorn  old  hen, 
who  had  hatched  the  ducklings,  and  kept  wandering  about  the  farm- 
yard, clucking  miserably,  "Those  poor  ducklings,  what  can  have 
become  of  them  ?  If  rats  had  killed  them,  we  should  have  found 
feathers  or  something;  and  weasels  would  have  sucked  their  brains 
and  left  them.  They  must  have  been  stolen,  or  wandered  away, 
and  died  of  cold  and  hunger — my  poor  ducklings!" 

The  mistress  sighed,  for  she  could  not  bear  any  living  thing  to 
suffer.  And  the  children  nearly  cried  at  the  thought  of  what  might 
be  happening  to  their  pretty  ducklings.  That  very  minute  a  little 
wee  brown  face  peered  through  a  hole  in  the  hencoop,  making  the 
old  mother-hen  fly  furiously  at  it — as  she  did  at  the  slightest  shadow 
of  an  enemy  to  her  little  ones.  However,  no  harm  happened — only 
a  guinea-fowl  suddenly  ran  across  the  farmyard,  screaming  in  its 
usual  harsh  voice.  But  it  was  not  the  usual  sort  of  guinea-fowl, 
being  larger  and  handsomer  than  any  of  theirs. 

"Oh,  what  a  beauty  of  a  creature!  how  did  it  ever  come  into  our 
farmyard,'*  cried  the  delighted  children;  and  started  off  after  it,  to 
catch  it  if  possible. 

But  they  ran,  and  they  ran — through  the  gate  and  out  into  the 
lane;  and  the  guinea-fowl  still  ran  on  before  them,  until,  turning 
round  a  corner,  they  lost  sight  of  it,  and  immediately  saw  something 
else,  equally  curious.  Sitting  on  the  top  of  a  big  thistle — so  big 
that  he  must  have  had  to  climb  it  just  like  a  tree — was  the  Brownie. 
His  legs  were  crossed,  and  his  arms  too,  his  little  brown  cap  was  stuck 
knowingly  on  one  side,  and  he  was  laughing  heartily. 

"  How  do  you  do  ?     Here  I  am  again.     I  thought  I  wouldn't  go 


98  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

to  bed  after  all.     Shall  I  help  you  to  find  the  ducklings?     Very 
well!  come  along." 

They  crossed  the  field,  Brownie  running  beside  them,  and  as  fast 
as  they  could,  though  he  looked  such  an  old  man;  and  sometimes 
turning  over  on  legs  and  arms  like  a  Catherine  wheel — which  they 
tried  to  imitate,  but  generally  failed,  and  only  bruised  their  fingers 
and  noses. 

He  lured  them  on  and  on  till  they  came  to  the  wood,  and  to  a  green 
path  in  it,  which  well  as  they  .knew  the  neighborhood,  none  of  the 
children  had  ever  seen  before.  It  led  to  a  most  beautiful  pond,  as 
clear  as  crystal  and  as  blue  as  the  sky.  Large  trees  grew  round  it, 
dipping  their  branches  in  the  water,  as  if  they  were  looking  at  them- 
selves in  a  glass.  And  all  about  their  roots  were  quantities  of  prim 
roses — the  biggest  primroses  the  little  girls  had  ever  jseen.  Down 
they  dropped  on  their  fat  knees,  squashing  more  primroses  than 
they  gathered,  though  they  tried  to  gather  them  all;  and  the  small- 
est child  even  began  to  cry  because  her  hands  were  so  full  that  the 
flowers  dropped  through  her  fingers.  But  the  boys,  older  and  more 
practical,  rather  despised  primroses. 

"I  thought  we  had  come  to  look  for  ducklings,"  said  the  eldest. 
"Mother  is  fretting  dreadfully  about  her  ducklings.  Where  can 
they  be?" 

"  Shut  your  eyes,  and  you'll  see, "  said  the  Brownie,  at  which  they 
all  laughed,  but  did  it;  and  when  they  opened  their  eyes  again,  what 
should  they  behold  but  a  whole  fleet  of  ducklings  sailing  out  from 
the  roots  of  an  old  willow-tree,  one  after  the  other,  looking  as  fat 
and  content  as  possible,  and  swimming  as  naturally  as  if  they  had 
lived  on  a  pond — and  this  particularly  pond,  all  their  days. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNTE  89 

"Count  them,"  said  the  Brownie,  "the  whole  eight — quite  correct. 
And  then  try  and  catch  them — if  you  can." 

Easier  said  than  done.  The  boys  set  to  work  with  great  satis- 
faction— boys  do  so  enjoy  hunting  something.  They  coaxed  them— 
they  shouted  at  them — they  threw  little  sticks  at  them;  but  as  soon 
as  they  wanted  them  to  go  one  way  the  fleet  of  ducklings  immediately 
turned  round  and  sailed  another  way,  doing  it  so  deliberately  and 
majestically,  that  the  children  could  not  help  laughing.  As  for  little 
Brownie,  he  sat  on  a  branch  of  the  willow-tree,  with  his  legs  dangling 
down  to  the  surface  of  the  pond,  kicking  at  the  water-spiders,  and 
grinning  with  all  his  might.  At  length,  quite  tired  out,  in  spite  of 
their  fun,  the  children  begged  for  his  help,  and  he  took  compassion 
on  them. 

"Turn  round  three  times  and  see  what  you  can  find,"  shouted  he. 

Immediately  each  little  boy  found  in  his  arms,  and  each  little  girl 
in  her  pinafore,  a  fine  fat  duckling.  And  there  being  eight  of  them, 
the  two  elder  children  had  each  a  couple.  They  were  rather  cold 
and  damp,  and  slightly  uncomfortable  to  cuddle,  ducks  not  being 
used  to  cuddling.  Poor  things!  they  struggled  hard  to  get  away. 
But  the  children  hugged  them  tight,  and  ran  as  fast  as  their  legs  could 
carry  them  through  the  wood,  forgetting,  in  their  joy,  even  to  say 
"Thank  you"  to  the  little  Brownie. 

When  they  reached  their  mother  she  was  as  glad  as  they,  for  she 
never  thought  to  see  her  ducklings  again;  and  to  have  them  back 
alive  and  uninjured,  and  watch  them  running  to  the  old  hen,  who 
received  them  with  an  ecstasy  of  delight,  was  so  exciting,  that  nobody 
thought  of  asking  a  single  question  as  to  where  they  had  been  found. 
When  the  mother  did  ask,  the  children  told  her  about  Brownie's 


4ti  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

taking  them  to  the  beautiful  pond — and  what  a  wonderful  pond  it 
was;  how  green  the  trees  were  round  it;  and  how  large  the  primroses 
grew.  They  never  tired  of  talking  about  it  and  seeking  for  it.  But 
the  odd  thing  was  that,  seek  as  they  might,  they  never  could  find  it 
again.  Many  a  day  did  the  little  people  roam  about  one  by  one,  or 
all  together,  round  the  wood,  often  getting  themselves  sadly 
draggled  with  mud  and  torn  with  brambles — but  the  beautiful  pond 
they  never  found  again. 

Nor  did  the  ducklings,  I  suppose;  for  they  wandered  no  more  from 
the  farmyard,  to  the  old  mother-hen's  great  content.  They  grew 
up  into  fat  and  respectable  ducks — five  white  ones  and  three  gray 
ones — waddling  about,  very  content,  though  they  never  saw  water, 
except  the  tank  which  was  placed  for  them  to  paddle  in.  They 
lived  a  lazy,  peaceful,  pleasant  life  for  a  long  time,  and  were  at  last 
killed  and  eaten  with  green  peas,  one  after  the  other,  to  the  family's 
great  satisfaction,  if  not  to  their  own. 


ADVENTURE  THE  FOURTH 

BROWNIE'S  RIDE 

the  little  Brownie,  though  not 
given  to  horsemanship,  did  once 
take  a  ride,  and  a  very  remarkable  one  it  was.  Shall  I  tell  you  all 
about  it  ? 

The  six  little  children  got  a  present  of  something  they  had  longed 
for  all  their  lives — a  pony.  Not  a  rocking-horse,  but  a  real  live  pony 
—a  Shetland  pony,  too,  which  had  traveled  all  the  way  from  the 
Shetland  Isles  to  Devonshire — where  every  body  wondered  at  it, 
for  such  a  creature  had  not  been  seen  in  the  neighborhood  for  years 
and  years.  She  was  no  bigger  than  a  donkey,  and  her  coat,  instead 
of  being  smooth  like  a  horse's,  was  shaggy  like  a  young  bear's.  She 
had  a  long  tail,  which  had  never  been  cut,  and  such  a  deal  of  hair 
in  her  mane  and  over  her  eyes  that  it  gave  her  quite  a  fierce  counte- 
nance. In  fact,  among  the  mild  and  tame  Devonshire  beasts,  the 
little  Shetland  pony  looked  almost  like  a  wild  animal.  But  in  reality 
she  was  the  gentlest  creature  in  the  world.  Before  she  had  been 
many  days  with  them,  she  began  to  know  the  children  quite  well; 
followed  them  about,  ate  corn  out  of  the  bowl  they  held  out  to  her; 

41 


42  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

nay,  one  day,  when  the  eldest  little  girl  offered  her  bread-and-butter, 
she  stooped  her  head  and  took  it  from  the  child's  hand,  just  like  a 
young  lady.  Indeed,  Jess — that  was  her  name — was  altogether  so 
lady-like  in  her  behavior,  that  more  than  once  Cook  allowed  her  to 
walk  in  at  the  back-door,  when  she  stood  politely  warming  her  nose 
at  the  kitchen-fire  for  a  minute  or  two,  then  turned  round  and  as 
politely  walked  out  again.  But  she  never  did  any  mischief;  and  was 
so  quiet  and  gentle  a  creature  that  she  bade  fair  soon  to  become  as 
great  a  pet  in  the  household  as  the  dog,  the  cat,  the  kittens,  the 
puppies,  the  fowls,  the  ducks,  the  cow,  the  pig,  and  all  the  other 
members  of  the  family. 

The  only  one  who  disliked  her,  and  grumbled  at  her,  was  the 
Gardener.  This  was  odd;  because,  though  cross  to  children,  the 
old  man  was  kind  to  dumb  beasts.  Even  his  pig  knew  his  voice  and 
grunted,  and  held  out  his  nose  to  be  scratched;  and  he  always  gave 
each  successive  pig  a  name,  Jack  or  Dick,  and  called  them  by  it, 
and  was  quite  affectionate  to  them,  one  after  the  other,  until  the 
very  day  that  they  were  killed.  But  they  were  English  pigs — and 
the  pony  was  Scotch — and  the  Devonshire  Gardener  hated  every 
thing  Scotch,  he  said;  besides,  he  was  not  used  to  groom's  work, 
and  the  pony  required  such  a  deal  of  grooming  on  account  of  her 
long  hair.  More  than  once  Gardener  threatened  to  clip  it  short, 
and  turn  her  into  a  regular  English  pony,  but  the  children  were  in 
such  distress  and  mother  forbade  any  such  spoiling  of  Jessie's  per- 
sonal appearance. 

At  length,  to  keep  things  smooth,  and  to  avoid  the  rough  words 
and  even  blows  which  poor  Jess  sometimes  got,  they  sought  in  the 
village  for  a  boy  to  look  after  her,  and  found  a  great  rough,  shock- 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  43 

headed  lad  named  Bill,  who,  for  a  few  shillings  a  week,  consented 
to  come  up  every  morning  and  learn  the  beginning  of  a  groom's 
business;  hoping  to  end,  as  his  mother  said  he  should,  in  sitting,  like 
the  squire's  fat  coachman,  as  broad  as  he  was  long,  on  the  top  of 
the  hammer-cloth  of  a  grand  carriage,  and  do  nothing  all  day  but 
drive  a  pair  of  horses  as  stout  as  himself  a  few  miles  along  the  road 
and  back  again. 

Bill  would  have  liked  this  very  much,  he  thought,  if  ne  could  have 
been  a  coachman  all  at  once,  for  if  there  was  one  thing  he  disliked, 
it  was  work.  He  much  preferred  to  lie  in  the  sun  all  day  and  do 
nothing;  and  he  only  agreed  to  come  and  take  care  of  Jess  because 
she  was  such  a  very  little  pony,  that  looking  after  her  seemed  next 
door  to  doing  nothing.  But  when  he  tried  it,  he  found  his  mistake. 
True,  Jess  was  a  very  gentle  beast,  so  quiet  that  the  old  mother-hen 
with  fourteen  chicks  used,  instead  of  roosting  with  the  rest  of  the 
fowls,  to  come  regularly  into  the  portion  of  the  cow-shed  which  was 
partitioned  off  for  a  stable,  and  settle  under  a  corner  of  Jess's  manger 
for  the  night;  and  in  the  morning  the  chicks  would  be  seen  running 
about  fearlessly  among  her  feet  and  under  her  very  nose. 

But,  for  all  that,  she  required  a  little  management,  for  she  did  not 
like  her  long  hair  to  be  roughly  handled;  it  took  a  long  time  to  clean 
her;  and,  though  she  did  not  scream  out  like  some  silly  little  children 
when  her  hair  was  combed,  I  am  afraid  she  sometimes  kicked  and 
bounced  about,  giving  Bill  a  deal  of  trouble — all  the  more  trouble, 
the  more  impatient  Bill  was. 

And  then  he  had  to  keep  within  call,  for  the  children  wanted  their 
pony  at  all  hours.  She  was  their  own  especial  property,  and  they 
insisted  upon  learning  to  ride — even  before  they  got  a  saddle.  Hard 


44  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

work  it  was  to  stick  on  Jess's  bare  back,  but  by  degrees  the  boys  did 
it,  turn  and  turn  about,  and  even  gave  their  sisters  a  turn  too — a  very 
little  one — just  once  round  the  field  and  back  again,  which  was  quite 
enough,  they  considered,  for  girls.  But  they  were  very  kind  to 
their  little  sisters,  held  them  on  so  that  they  could  not  fall,  and  led 
Jess  carefully  and  quietly:  and  altogether  behaved  as  elder  brothers 
should. 

Nor  did  they  squabble  very  much  among  themselves,  though  some- 
times it  was  rather  difficult  to  keep  their  turns  all  fair,  and  remember 
accurately  which  was  which.  But  they  did  their  best,  being,  on  the 
whole,  extremely  good  children.  And  they  were  so  happy  to  have 
their  pony,  that  they  would  have  been  ashamed  to  quarrel  over 
her. 

Also,  one  very  curious  thing  kept  them  on  their  good  behavior. 
Whenever  they  did  begin  to  misconduct  themselves — to  wrant  to  ride 
out  of  their  turns,  or  to  domineer  over  one  another,  or  the  boys, 
joining  together,  tried  to  domineer  over  the  girls,  as  I  grieve  to  say 
boys  not  seldom  do — they  used  to  hear  in  the  air,  right  over  their 
heads,  the  crack  of  an  unseen  whip.  It  was  none  of  theirs,  for  they 
had  not  got  a  whip ;  that  was  a  felicity  which  their  father  had  promised 
when  they  could  all  ride  like  a  young  gentleman  and  ladies ;  but  there 
was  no  mistaking  the  sound — indeed,  it  always  startled  Jess  so  that 
she  set  off  galloping,  and  could  not  be  caught  again  for  many  minutes. 

This  happened  several  times,  until  one  of  them  said,  "Perhaps 
it's  the  Brownie. "  Whether  it  was  or  not,  it  made  them  behave  better 
for  a  good  while;  till  one  unfortunate  day  the  two  eldest  began  con- 
tending which  should  ride  foremost  and  which  hindmost  on  Jess's 
back,  when  "Crick — crack!"  went  the  whip  in  the  air,  frightening 


THE   ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  45 

the  pony  so  much  that  she  kicked  up  her  heels,  tossed  both  the  boys 
over  her  head,  and  scampered  off,  followed  by  a  loud  "Ha,  ha,  ha!" 

It  certainly  did  not  come  from  the  two  boys,  who  had  f alien- 
quite  safely,  but  rather  unpleasantly — into  a  large  nettle-bed ;  whence 
they  crawled  out,  rubbing  their  arms  and  legs,  and  looking  too  much 
ashamed  to  complain.  But  they  were  rather  frightened  and  a  little 
cross,  for  Jess  took  a  skittish  fit,  and  refused  to  be  caught  and  mounted 
again,  till  the  bell  rang  for  school — when  she  grew  as  meek  as  possible. 
Too  late — for  the  children  were  obliged  to  run  indoors,  and  got  no 
more  rides  for  the  whole  day. 

Jess  was  from  this  incident  supposed  to  be  on  the  same  friendly 
terms  with  Brownie  as  were  the  rest  of  the  household.  Indeed,  when 
she  came,  the  children  had  taken  care  to  lead  her  up  to  the  coal-cellar 
door  and  introduce  her  properly — for  they  knew  Brownie  was  very 
jealous  of  strangers,  and  often  played  them  tricks.  But  after  that 
piece  of  civility  he  would  be  sure,  they  thought,  to  take  her  under 
his  protection.  And  sometimes,  when  the  little  Shetlander  was 
restless  and  pricked  up  her  ears,  looking  preternaturally  wise  under 
those  shaggy  brows  of  hers,  the  children  used  to  say  to  one  another, 
"Perhaps  she  sees  the  Brownie." 

Whether  she  did  or  not,  Jess  sometimes  seemed  to  see  a  good  deal 
that  others  did  not  see,  and  was  apparently  a  favorite  with  the  Brownie, 
for  she  grew  and  thrived  so  much  that  she  soon  became  the  pride 
and  delight  of  the  children  and  of  the  whole  family.  You  would 
hardly  have  known  her  for  the  rough,  shaggy,  half-starved  little 
beast  that  had  arrive!  a  few  weeks  before.  Her  coat  was  so  silky, 
her  limbs  so  graceful,  and  her  head  so  full  of  intelligence,  that  every 
body  admired  her.  Then  even  Gardener  began  to  admire  her  too. 


46  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

"I  think  I'll  get  upon  her  back;  it  will  save  me  walking  down  to 
the  village,"  said  he,  one  day.  And  she  actually  carried  him — 
though,  as  his  feet  nearly  touched  the  ground,  it  looked  as  if  the  man 
were  carrying  the  pony,  and  not  the  pony  the  man.  And  the  children 
laughed  so  immoderately,  that  he  never  tried  it  afterward. 

Nor  Bill  neither,  though  he  had  once  thought  he  should  like  a  ride, 
and  got  astride  on  Jess ;  but  she  quickly  ducked  her  head  down,  and 
he  tumbled  over  it.  Evidently  she  had  her  own  tastes  as  to  her 
riders,  and  much  preferred  little  people  to  big  ones. 

Pretty  Jess !  when  cantering  round  the  paddock  with  the  young  folk 
she  really  was  quite  a  picture.  And  when  at  last  she  got  a  saddle — 
a  new,  beautiful  saddle,  with  a  pommel  to  take  off  and  on,  so  as  to 
suit  both  boys  and  girls — how  proud  they  all  were,  Jess  included! 
That  day  they  were  allowed  to  take  her  into  the  market- town — 
Gardener  leading  her,  as  Bill  could  not  be  trusted — and  every  body, 
even  the  blacksmith,  who  hoped  by-and-by  to  have  the  pleasure  of 
shoeing  her,  said,  what  a  beautiful  pony  she  was ! 

After  this,  Gardener  treated  Jess  a  great  deal  better,  and  showed 
Bill  how  to  groom  her,  and  kept  him  close  at  it  too,  which  Bill  did 
not  like  at  all.  He  was  a  very  lazy  lad,  and  whenever  he  could  shirk 
work  he  did  it;  and  many  a  time  when  the  children  wanted  Jess,  either 
there  was  nobody  to  saddle  her,  or  she  had  not  been  properly  groomed, 
or  Bill  was  away  at  his  dinner,  and  they  had  to  wait  till  he  came  back 
and  could  put  her  in  order  to  be  taken  out  for  a  ride  like  a  genteel 
animal — which  I  am  afraid  neither  pony  nor  children  enjoyed  half 
so  much  as  the  old  ways  before  Bill  came. 

Still,  they  were  gradually  becoming  excellent  little  horsemen  and 
horsewomen — even  the  youngest,  only  four  years  old,  whom  all  the 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 


47 


Jen  quickly  ducked  her  head  down  and  Bill  tumbled  over  it. 

rest  were  very  tender  over,  and  who  was  often  held  on  Jess's  back 
and  given  a  ride  out  of  her  turn  because  she  was  a  good  little  girl, 
and  never  cried  for  it.  And  seldomer  and  seldomer  was  heard  the 
mysterious  sound  of  the  whip  in  the  ah,  which  warned  them  of 
quarreling — Brownie  hated  quarreling. 

In  fact,  their  only  trouble  was  Bill,  who  never  came  to  his  work 
in  time,  and  never  did  things  when  wanted,  and  was  ill-natured,  lazy, 
and  cross  to  the  children,  so  that  they  disliked  him  very  much. 

"I  wish  the  Brownie  would  punish  you,"  said  one  of  the  boys; 
"you'd  behave  better  then." 

"The  Brownie!"  cried  Bill,  contemptuously;  "if  I  caught  him, 
I'd  kick  him  up  in  the  air  like  this!" 

And  he  kicked  up  his  cap — his  only  cap,  it  was — which,  strange 
to  relate,  flew  right  up,  ever  so  high,  and  lodged  at  the  very  top  of  a 
tree  which  overhung  the  stable,  where  it  dangled  for  weeks  and  weeks, 
during  which  time  poor  Bill  had  to  go  bareheaded. 

He  was  very  much  verxed,  and  revenged  himself  by  vexing  the 


48  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

children  in  all  sorts  of  ways.  They  would  have  told  their  mother, 
and  asked  her  to  send  Bill  away,  only  she  had  a  great  many  anxieties 
just  then,  for  their  old  grandmother  was  very  ill,  and  they  did  not 
like  to  make  a  fuss  about  any  thing  that  would  trouble  her. 

So  Bill  staid  on,  and  nobody  found  out  what  a  bad,  ill-natured, 
lazy  boy  he  was. 

But  one  day  the  mother  was  sent  for  suddenly,  not  knowing  when 
she  should  be  able  to  come  home  again.  She  was  very  sad,  and  so 
were  the  children,  for  they  loved  their  grandmother — and  as  the 
carriage  drove  off  they  all  stood  crying  round  the  front-door  for  ever 
so  long. 

The  servants  even  cried  too — all  but  Bill. 

"It's  an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  good,"  said  he.  "What  a 
jolly  time  I  shall  have!  I'll  do  nothing  all  day  long.  Those  trouble- 
some children  sha'n't  have  Jess  to  ride ;  I'll  keep  her  in  the  stable, 
and  then  she  won't  get  dirty,  and  I  shall  have  no  trouble  in  cleaning 
her.  Hurrah!  what  fun!" 

He  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  sat  whistling  the  best  part  of 
the  afternoon. 

The  children  had  been  so  unhappy,  that  for  that  day  they  quite 
forgot  Jess;  but  next  morning,  after  lessons  were  over,  they  came 
begging  for  a  ride. 

"You  can't  get  one.  The  stable-door's  locked  and  I've  lost  the 
key. "  (He  had  it  in  his  pocket  all  the  time.) 

"How  is  poor  Jess  to  get  her  dinner?"  cried  a  thoughtful  little 
girl.  "  Oh,  how  hungry  she  will  be ! " 

And  the  child  wras  quite  in  distress,  as  were  the  two  other  girls. 
But  the  boys  were  more  angry  than  sorry. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  49 

"  It  was  very  stupid  of  you,  Bill,  to  lose  the  key.  Look  about  and 
find  it,  or  else  break  open  the  door." 

"I  won't,"  said  Bill;  "I  dare  say  the  key  will  turn  up  before  night, 
and  if  it  doesn't,  who  cares?  You  get  riding  enough  and  too  much. 
I'll  not  bother  myself  about  it,  or  Jess  either." 

And  Bill  sauntered  away.  He  was  a  big  fellow,  and  the  little  lads 
were  rather  afraid  of  him.  But  as  he  walked,  he  could  not  keep 
his  hand  out  of  his  trowsers-pocket,  where  the  key  felt  growing  heavier 
and  heavier,  till  he  expected  it  every  minute  to  tumble  through  and 
come  out  at  his  boots — convicting  him  before  all  the  children  of  having 
told  a  lie. 

Nobody  was  in  the  habit  of  telling  lies  to  them,  so  they  never  sus- 
pected him,  but  went  innocently  searching  about  for  the  key — Bill 
all  the  while  clutching  it  fast.  But  every  time  he  touched  it,  he  felt 
his  fingers  pinched,  as  it  there  was  a  cockroach  in  his  pocket — or 
little  lobster — or  something,  anyhow,  that  had  claws.  At  last,  fairly 
frightened,  he  made  an  excuse  to  go  into  the  cow-shed,  took  the  key 
out  of  his  pocket  and  looked  at  it,  and  finally  hid  it  in  a  corner  of  the 
manger,  among  the  hay. 

As  he  did  so,  he  heard  a  most  extraordinary  laugh,  which  was 
certainly  not  from  Dolly  the  cow,  and,  as  he  went  out  of  the  shed, 
he  felt  the  same  sort  of  pinch  at  his  ankles,  which  made  him  so  angry 
that  he  kept  striking  with  his  whip  in  all  directions,  but  hit  nobody 
for  nobody  was  there. 

But  Jess — who,  as  soon  as  she  heard  the  children's  voices,  set 
up  a  most  melancholy  whinnying  behind  the  locked  stable-door — 
began  to  neigh  energetically.  And  Boxer  barked,  and  the  hens 
cackled,  and  the  guinea-fowls  cried  "Come  back,  come  back!"  in 


50  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

their  usual  insane  fashion — indeed,  the  whole  farmyard  seemed  in 
such  an  excited  state,  that  the  children  got  frightened  lest  Gardener 
should  scold  them,  and  ran  away,  leaving  Bill  master  of  the  field. 

What  an  idle  day  he  had!  How  he  sat  on  the  wail  with  his  hands 
in  his  pockets,  and  lounged  upon  the  fence,  and  sauntered  around 
the  garden!  At  length,  absolutely  tired  of  doing  nothing,  he  went 
and  talked  with  the  Gardener's  wife  while  she  was  hanging  out  her 
clothes.  Gardener  had  gone  down  to  the  lower  field,  with  all  the 
little  folks  after  him,  so  that  he  knew  nothing  of  Bill's  idling,  or  it 
might  have  come  to  an  end. 

By-and-by  Bill  thought  it  was  time  to  go  home  to  his  supper. 
"But  first  I'll  give  Jess  her  corn,"  said  he,  "double  quantity,  and 
then  I  need  not  come  back  to  give  her  her  breakfast  so  early  in  the 
morning.  Soh!  you  greedy  beast!  I'll  be  at  you  presently,  f  you 
don't  stop  that  noise. " 

For  Jess,  at  sound  of  his  footsteps,  was  heard  to  whinny  in  the 
most  imploring  manner,  enough  to  have  melted  a  heart  of  stone. 

"The  key — where  on  earth  did  I  put  the  key?"  cried  Bill,  whose 
constant  habit  it  was  to  lay  things  out  of  his  hand  and  then  forget 
where  he  had  put  them,  causing  himself  endless  loss  of  time  in 
searching  for  them — as  now.  At  last  he  suddenly  remembered  the 
corner  of  the  cow's  manger,  where  he  felt  sure  he  had  left  it.  But 
the  key  was  not  there. 

"You  can't  have  eaten  it,  you  silly  old  cow,"  said  he,  striking 
Dolly  on  the  nose  as  she  rubbed  herself  against  him — she  was  an 
affectionate  beast.  "Nor  you,  you  stupid  old  hen!"  kicking  the 
mother  of  the  brood,  who,  with  her  fourteen  chicks,  being  shut  out 
of  their  usual  roosting-place — Jess's  stable — kept  pecking  about 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  51 

under     Dolly's    legs.     "It    can't    have    gone    without    hands — of 
course  it  can't."      But  most  certainly  the  key  was  gone. 

What  in  the  world  should  Bill  do?  Jess  kept  on  making  a  pitiful 
complaining.  No  wonder,  as  she  had  not  tasted  food  since  morning. 
It  would  have  made  any  kind-heaited  person  quite  sad  to  hear  her. 
thinking  how  exceedingly  hungry  the  poor  pony  must  be. 

Little  did  Bill  care  for  that,  or  for  anything,  except  that  he  should 
be  sure  to  get  into  trouble  as  soon  as  he  was  found  out.  When  he 
heard  Gardener  coming  into  the  farmyard,  with  the  children  after 
him,  Bill  bolted  over  the  wall  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  and  ran  away 
home,  leaving  poor  Jess  to  her  fate. 

All  the  way  he  seemed  to  hear  at  his  heels  a  little  dog  yelping,  and 
then  a  swarm  of  gnats  buzzing  round  his  head,  and  altogether  was 
so  perplexed  and  bewildered,  that  when  he  got  into  his  mother's 
cottage  he  escaped  into  bed,  and  pulled  the  blanket  over  his  ears 
to  shut  out  the  noise  of  the  dog  and  the  gnats,  which  at  last  turned  into 
a  sound  like  somebody  laughing.  It  was  not  his  mother,  she  didn't 
often  laugh,  poor  soul! — Bill  bothered  her  quite  too  much  for  that, 
and  he  knew  it.  Dreadfully  frightened,  he  hid  his  head  under  the 
bedclothes,  determined  to  go  to  sleep  and  think  about  nothing  till 
next  day. 

Meantime  Gardener  returned,  with  all  the  little  people  trooping 
after  him.  He  had  been  rather  kinder  to  them  than  usual  this  day, 
because  he  knew  their  mother  had  gone  away  in  trouble,  and  now 
he  let  them  help  him  to  roll  the  gravel,  and  fetch  up  Dolly  to  be 
milked,  and  watch  him  milk  her  in  the  cow-shed — where,  it  being 
nearly  winter,  she  always  spent  the  night  now  They  were  so  well 
amused  that  they  forgot  all  about  their  disappointment  as  to  the  ride, 


52 

and  Jess  did  not  remind  them  of  it  by  her  whinnying.  For  as  soon 
as  Bill  was  gone  she  grew  silent. 

At  last  one  little  girl,  the  one  who  had  cried  over  Jess's  being 
left  hungry,  remembered  the  poor  pony,  and,  peeping  through  a  crevice 
in  the  cowshed,  saw  her  stand  contentedly  munching  at  a  large  bowl- 
ful of  corn. 

"So  Bill  did  find  the  key.  I'm  very  glad,"  thought  the  kind 
little  maiden,  and  to  make  sure  looked  again,  when — what  do  you 
think  she  beheld  squatting  on  the  manger?  Something  brown — 
either  a  large  brown  rat,  or  a  small  brown  man.  But  she  held  her 
tongue,  since,  being  a  very  little  girl,  people  sometimes  laughed  at 
her  for  the  strange  things  she  saw.  She  was  quite  certain  she  did 
see  them,  for  all  that. 

So  she  and  the  rest  of  the  children  went  indoors  and  to  bed.  When 
they  were  fast  asleep,  something  happened.  Something  so  curious, 
that  the  youngest  boy,  who,  thinking  he  heard  Jess  neighing,  got  up 
to  look  out,  was  afraid  to  tell,  lest  he  too  should  be  laughed  at,  and 
went  back  to  bed  immediately. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night,  a  little  old  brown  man  carrying  a  lantern, 
or  at  least  having  a  light  in  his  hand  that  looked  like  a  lantern— went 
and  unlocked  Jess's  stable,  and  patted  her  pretty  head.  At  first  she 
started,  but  soon  she  grew  quiet  and  pleased,  and  let  him  do  what 
he  chose  with  her.  He  began  rubbing  her  down,  making  the  same 
funny  hissing  with  his  mouth  that  Bill  did,  and  all  grooms  do — I  never 
could  find  out  why.  But  Jess  evidently  liked  it,  and  stood  as  good 
as  possible. 

"Isn't  it  nice  to  be  clean ?"  said  the  wee  man,  talking  to  her  as  if 
she  were  a  human  being,  or  a  Brownie.  "And  I  dare  say  your  poor 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 


Up  the  bank  she  scrambled,  her  long  hair  dripping. — Page  55 


THE   ADVENTURES  OF   A   BROWWIE  55 

little  legs  ache  with  standing  so  long.  Shall  we  have  a  run  together  ? 
the  moon  shines  bright  in  the  clear,  cold  night.  Dear  me!  I'm 
talking  poetry." 

But  Brownies  are  not  poetical  fairies,  quite  commonplace,  and  up 
to  all  sorts  of  work.  So,  while  he  talked,  he  was  saddling  and  brid- 
ling Jess,  she  not  objecting  in  the  least.  Finally,  he  jumped  on  her 
back. 

"Off,  said  the  stranger — off,  off,  and  away!'"  sang  Brownie 
mimicking  a  song  of  the  Cook's.  People  in  that  house  often  heard 
their  songs  repeated  in  the  oddest  way,  from  room  to  room,  every- 
body fancying  it  was  somebody  else  that  did  it.  But  it  was  only 
the  Brownie.  "Now,  'A  southerly  wind  and  a  cloudy  sky  proclaim 
a  hunting  morning!" 

Or  night— for  it  was  the  middle  of  the  night,  though  bright  as 
day — and  Jess  galloped  and  the  Brownie  sat  on  her  back  as  merrily 
as  if  they  had  gone  hunting  together  all  their  days. 

Such  a  steeple-chase   it  was!     They  cleared  the  farmyard  at  a 
single  bound,  and  went  flying  down  the  road,  and  across  the  ploughed 
field,  and  into  the  wood.     Then  out  into  the  open  country,  and  by- 
and-by  into  a  dark,  muddy  lane — and  oh!  how  muddy  Devonshire 
lanes  can  be  sometimes ! 

"Let's  go  into  the  water  to  wash  ourselves,"  said  Brownie,  and 
coaxed  Jess  into  a  deep  stream,  which  she  swam  as  bravely  as  possible 
— she  had  not  had  such  a  frolic  since  she  left  her  native  Shetland 
Isles.  Up  the  bank  she  scrambled,  her  long  hair  dripping  as  if  she 
had  been  a  water-dog  instead  of  a  pony.  Brownie,  too,  shook  him- 
self like  a  rat  or  a  beaver,  throwing  a  shower  round  him  in  all  direc- 
tions. 


56  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

"Never  mind;  at  it  again,  my  lass!"  and  he  urgea  Jess  into  the 
water  once  more.  Out  she  came,  wetter  and  brisker  than  ever, 
and  went  back  home  again  through  the  lane,  and  the  wood,  and  the 
ploughed  field,  galloping  like  the  wind,  and  tossing  back  her  ears 
and  mane  and  tail,  perfectly  frantic  with  enjoyment. 

But  when  she  reached  her  stable,  the  plight  she  was  in  would  have 
driven  any  respectable  groom  frantic  too.  Her  sides  were  white  with 
foam,  and  the  mud  was  sticking  all  over  her  like  a  plaster.  As  for 
her  beautiful  long  hair,  it  was  all  caked  together  in  a  tangle,  as  if 
all  the  combs  in  the  world  would  never  make  it  smooth  again.  Her 
mane  especially  was  plaited  into  knots,  which  people  in  Devonshire 
call  elf-locks,  and  say,  when  they  find  them  on  their  horses,  that  it 
is  because  the  fairies  have  been  riding  them. 

Certainly,  poor  Jess  had  been  pretty  well  ridden  that  night.  When 
just  as  the  dawn  began  to  break,  Gardener  got  up  and  looked  into 
the  farmyard,  his  sharp  eye  caught  sight  of  the  stable-door  wide  open. 

"Well  done,  Bill,'*  shouted  he,  "up  early  at  last  One  hour 
before  breakfast  is  worth  three  after." 

But  no  Bill  was  there;  only  Jess,  trembling  and  shaking,  all  in  a 
foam,  and  muddy  from  head  to  foot,  but  looking  perfectly  cheerful 
in  her  mind.  And  out  from  under  her  fore  legs  ran  a  small  creature 
which  Gardener  mistook  for  Tiny,  only  Tiny  was  gray,  and  this 
dog  was  brown,  of  course ! 

I  should  not  like  to  tell  you  all  that  was  said  to  Bill  when,  an  hour 
after  breakfast-time,  he  came  skulking  up  to  the  farm.  In  fact,  words 
failing,  Gardener  took  a  good  stick  and  laid  it  about  Bill's  shoulders, 
saying  he  would  either  do  this,  or  tell  the  mistress  of  him,  and  how 
he  had  left  the  stable-door  open  all  night,  and  some  bad  fellow  had 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A   BROWNIE  57 

stolen  Jess,  and  galloped  her  all  across  the  country,  till,  if  she  hadn't 
been  the  cleverest  pony  in  the  world,  she  never  could  have  got  back 
again. 

Bill  durst  not  contradict  this  explanation  of  the  story,  especially 
as  the  key  was  found  hanging  up  in  its  proper  place  by  the  kitchen 
door.  And  when  he  went  to  fetch  it,  he  heard  the  most  extra- 
ordinary sound  in  the  coal-cellar  close  by — like  somebody  snoring 
or  laughing.  Bill  took  to  his  heels,  and  did  not  come  back  for  a 
whole  hour. 

But  when  he  did  come  back,  he  made  himself  as  busy  as  possible. 
He  cleaned  Jess,  which  was  half  a  day's  work  at  least.  Then  he 
took  the  little  people  a  ride,  and  afterward  put  his  stable  in  the  most 
beautiful  order,  and  altogetherwas  sueh  a  changed  Bill,  that  Gardener 
told  him  he  must  have  left  himself  at  home  and  brought  back  some- 
body else:  whether  or  not,  the  boy  certainly  improved,  so  that  there 
was  less  occasion  to  find  fault  with  him  afterward. 

Jess  lived  to  be  quite  an  old  pony,  and  carried  a  great  many  people 
—little  people  always,  for  she  herself  never  grew  any  bigger.     But 
I  don't  think  she  ever  carried  a  Brownie  again. 


ADVENTURE  THE  FIFTH 

BROWNIE    ON   THE    ICE 

'INTER  was  a  grand  time 
with  the  six  little  children 
especially  when  they  had  frost  and  snow.  This  happened 
seldom  enough  for  it  to  be  the  greatest  possible  treat  when  it  did 
happen;  and  it  never  lasted  very  long,  for  the  winters  are  warm  in 
Devonshire. 

There  was  a  little  lake  three  fields  off,which  made  the  most  splen- 
did sliding-place  imaginable.  No  skaters  went  near  it — it  was  not 
large  enough;  and  besides,  there  was  nobody  to  skate,  the  neighbor- 
hood being  lonely.  The  lake  itself  looked  the  loneliest  place  imagin- 
able. It  was  not  very  deep — not  deep  enough  to  drown  a  man- 
but  it  had  a  gravelly  bottom,  and  was  always  very  clear.  Also,  the 
trees  round  it  grew  so  thick  that  they  sheltered  it  completely  from 
the  wind,  so,  when  it  did  freeze,  it  generally  froze  as  smooth  as  a  sheet 
of  glass. 

"The  lake  bears!"  was  such  a  grand  event,  and  so  rare,  that  when 
it  did  occur,  the  news   came  at  once  to  the  farm,  and  the  children 

carried  it  as  quickly  to  their  mother.     For  she  had  promised  them 

M 


THE   ADVENTURES  OF  A   BROWNIE  59 

that,  if  such  a  thing  did  happen  this  year — it  did  not  happen  every 
year — lessons  should  be  stopped  entirely,  and  they  should  all  go 
down  to  the  lake  and  slide,  if  they  liked,  all  day  long. 

So  one  morning,  just  before  Christmas,  the  eldest  boy  ran  in  with 
a  countenance  of  great  delight. 

"Mother,  mother,  the  lake  bears!"  (It  was  rather  a  compliment 
to  call  it  a  lake,  it  being  only  about  twenty  yards  across  and  forty 
long.)  "The  lake  really  bears!'* 

"Who  says  so?" 

"Bill.  Bill  has  been  on  it  for  an  hour  this  morning,  and  has  maae 
us  two  such  beautiful  slides,  he  says — an  upslide  and  a  down-slide. 
May  we  go  directly?" 

The  mother  hesitated. 
'You  promised,  you  know,"  pleaded  the  children. 

"Very  well,  then;  only  be  careful." 

"And  may  we  slide  all  day  long,  and  never  come  home  for  dinner 
or  any  thing?" 

'Yes,  if  you  like.  Only  Gardener  must  go  with  you,  and  stay 
all  day. " 

This  they  did  not  like  at  all;  nor,  when  Gardener  was  spoken  to, 
did  he. 

'You  bothering  children!  I  wish  you  may  all  get  a  good  ducking 
in  the  lake !  Serve  you  right  for  making  me  lose  a  day's  work,  just 
to  look  after  you  little  monkeys.  I've  a  great  mind  to  tell  your 
mother  I  won't  do  it. " 

But  he  did  not,  being  fond  of  his  mistress.  He  was  also  fond  of 
his  work,  but  he  had  no  notion  of  play.  I  think  the  saying  of,  "All 
work  and  no  play  makes  Jack  a  dull  boy,"  must  have  been  applied 


60  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

to  him,  for  Gardener,  whatever  he  had  been  as  a  boy,  was  certainly 
a  dull  and  melancholy  man.    The  children  used  to  say  that  if  he  and 
idle  Bill  could  have  been  kneaded  into  one,  and  baked  in  the  oven— 
a  very  warm  oven — they  would  have  come  out  rather  a  pleasant 
person. 

As  it  was,  Gardener  was  any  thing  but  a  pleasant  person;  above 
all,  to  spend  a  long  day  with,  and  on  the  ice,  where  one  needs  all 
one's  cheerfulness  and  good-humor  to  bear  pinched  fingers  and 
numbed  toes,  and  trips  and  tumbles,  and  various  uncomfortable- 
nesses. 

"He'll  growl  at  us  all  day  long — he'll  be  a  regular  spoil-sport!" 
lamented  the  children.  "Oh!  mother,  mightn't  we  go  alone  ?" 

"No!"  said  the  mother;  and  her  "No"  meant  no,  though  she  was 
always  very  kind.  They  argued  the  point  no  more,  but  started  off, 
rather  downhearted.  But  soon  they  regained  their  spirits,  for  it 
was  bright,  clear,  frosty  day — the  sun  shining,  though  not  enough 
to  melt  the  ice,  and  just  sufficient  to  lie  like  a  thin  sprinkling  over 
the  grass,  and  turn  the  brown  branches  into  white  ones.  The  little 
people  danced  along  to  keep  themselves  warm,  carrying  between 
them  a  basket  which  held  their  lunch  A  very  harmless  lunch  it 
was — just  a  large  brown  loaf  and  a  lump  of  cheese,  and  a  knife  to 
cut  it  with.  Tossing  the  basket  about  in  their  fun,  they  managed 
to  tumble  the  knife  out,  and  were  having  a  search  for  it  in  the  long 
grass,  when  Gardener  came  up,  grumpily  enough. 

"To  think  of  trusting  you  children  with  one  of  the  table-knives 
and  a  basket!  what  a  fool  Cook  must  be!  I'll  tell  her  so;  and  if 
they're  lost  she'll  blame  me:  give  me  the  things." 

He  put  the  knife  angrily  in  one  pocket.     "  Perhaps  it  will  cut  a  hole 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  61 

in  it,"  said  one  of  the  children,  in  rather  a  pleased  tone  than  other- 
wise; then  he  turned  the  lunch  all  out  on  the  grass  and  crammed  it 
in  the  other  pocket,  hiding  the  basket  behind  a  hedge. 

"I'm  sure  I'll  not  be  at  the  trouble  of  carrying  it,"  said  he,  when 
the  children  cried  out  at  this ;  "  and  you  shan't  carry  it  either,  for  you'll 
knock  it  about  and  spoil  it.  And  as  for  your  lunch  getting  warm  in 
my  pocket,  why,  so  much  the  better  this  cold  day. " 

It  was  not  a  lively  joke,  and  they  knew  the  pocket  was  very  dirty; 
indeed,  the  little  girls  had  seen  him  stuff  a  dead  rat  into  it  only  the 
day  before.  They  looked  ready  to  cry;  but  there  was  no  help 
for  them,  except  going  back  and  complaining  to  their  mother,  and 
they  did  not  like  to  do  that.  Besides,  they  knew  that,  though  Gar- 
dener was  cross,  he  was  trustworthy,  and  she  would  never  let  them 
go  down  to  the  lake  without  him. 

So  they  followed  him,  trying  to  be  as  good  as  they  could — though 
it  was  difficult  work,  One  of  them  proposed  pelting  him  with  snow- 
balls, as  they  pelted  each  other.  But  at  the  first — which  fell  in  his 
neck — he  turned  round  so  furiously,  that  they  never  sent  a  second, 
but  walked  behind  him  as  meek  as  mice. 

As  they  went,  they  heard  little  steps  pattering  after  them. 

"Perhaps  it  is  the  Brownie  to  play  with  us — I  wish  he  would," 
whispered  the  youngest  girl  to  the  eldest  boy,  whose  hand  she  generally 
held;  and  then  the  little  pattering  steps  sounded  again,  traveling 
through  the  snow,  but  they  saw  nobody — so  they  said  nothing. 

The  children  would  have  liked  to  go  straight  to  the  ice;  but  Gar- 
dener insisted  on  taking  them  a  mile  round,  to  look  at  an  extra- 
ordinary animal  which  a  farmer  there  had  just  got — sent  by  his 
brother  in  Australia.  The  two  old  men  stood  gossiping  so  long  that 


6Z  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

the  children  wearied  extremely.     Every  minute  seemed  an  hour  till 
they  got  on  the  ice. 

At  last  one  of  them  pulled  Gardener's  coat-tails,  and  whispered 
that  they  were  quite  ready  to  go. 

'Then  I'm  not,"  and  he  waited  ever  so  much  longer,  and  got  a 
drink  of  hot  cider,  which  made  him  quite  lively  for  a  little  while. 

But  by  the  time  they  reached  the  lake,  he  was  as  cross  as  ever. 
He  struck  the  ice  with  his  stick,  but  made  no  attempt  to  see  if  it  really 
did  bear — though  he  would  not  allow  the  children  to  go  one  step 
upon  it  till  he  had  tried. 

"I  know  it  doesn't  bear,  and  you'll  just  have  to  go  home  again — 
a  good  thing  too — saves  me  from  losing  a  day's  work. " 

"Try,  only  try;  Bill  said  it  bore,"  implored  the  boys,  and  looked 
wistfully  at  the  two  beautiful  slides — just  as  Bill  said,  one  up  and 
one  down — stretching  all  across  the  lake;  "of  course  it  bears,  or  Bill 
could  not  have  made  these  slides." 

"  Bill's  an  ass ! "  said  the  Gardener,  and  put  his  heavy  foot  cautiously 
on  the  ice.  Just  then  there  was  seen  jumping  across  it  a  creature 
which  certainly  had  never  been  seen  on  ice  before.  It  made  the 
most  extraordinary  bounds  on  its  long  hind  legs,  with  its  little  fore 
legs  tucked  up  in  front  of  it  as  if  it  wanted  to  carry  a  muff;  and  its 
long,  stiff  tail  sticking  out  straight  behind,  to  balance  it  itself  with 
apparently.  The  children  at  first  started  with  surprise,  and  then 
burst  out  laughing,  for  it  was  the  funniest  creature,  and  had  the 
funniest  way  of  getting  along,  that  they  had  ever  seen  in  their  lives. 

"It's  the  kangaroo!"  said  Gardener,  in  great  excitement.  "It 
has  got  loose — and  it's  sure  to  be  lost — and  what  a  way  Mr.  Giles 
will  be  in !  I  must  go  and  tell  him.  Or  stop,  I'll  try  and  csitch  it. " 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  «8 

But  in  vain — it  darted  once  or  twice  across  the  ice,  dodging  him, 
as  it  were;  and  once  coming  so  close  that  he  nearly  caught  it  by  the 
tail — to  the  children's  great  delight — then  it  vanished  entirely. 

"I  must  go  and  tell  Mr.  Giles  directly,"  said  Gardener,  and  then 
stopped.  For  he  had  promised  not  to  leave  the  children;  and  it  was 
such  a  wild-goose  chase,  after  an  escaped  kangaroo.  But  he  might 
get  half  a  crown  as  a  re  ward,  and  he  was  sure  of  another  glass  of  cider. 

"You  just  stop  quiet  here,  and  I'll  be  back  in  five  minutes,"  said 
he  to  the  children.  "You  may  go  a  little  way  on  the  ice — I  think  it's 
sound  enough ;  only  mind  you  don't  tumble  in,  for  there'll  be  nobody 
to  pull  you  out." 

"Oh  no,"  said  the  children,  clapping  their  hands.  They  did  not 
care  for  tumbling  in,  and  were  quite  glad  there  was  nobody  there 
to  pull  them  out.  They  hoped  Gardener  would  stop  a  very  long 
time  away — only,  as  some  one  suggested  when  he  was  seen  hurrying 
across  the  snowy  field,  he  had  taken  away  their  lunch  in  his  pocket, 
too. 

Off  they  darted,  the  three  elder  boys,  with  a  good  run;  the  biggest 
of  the  girls  followed  after  them;  and  soon  the  whole  four  were  skim- 
ming one  after  the  other,  as  fast  as  a  railway  train,  across  the  slippery 
ice.  And,  like  a  railway  train,  they  had  a  collision,  and  all  came 
tumbling  one  over  the  other,  with  great  screaming  and  laughing,  to 
the  high  bank  on  the  other  side.  The  two  younger  ones  stood  mourn- 
fully watching  the  others  from  the  opposite  bank — when  there  stood 
beside  them  a  small  brown  man. 

"Ho-ho!  little  people,"  said  he,  coming  between  them  and  taking 
hold  of  a  hand  of  each.  His  was  so  warm  and  theirs  so  cold,  that  ii 
was  quite  comfortable.  And  then,  somehow,  they  found  in  their 


64  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

mouths  a  nice  lozenge — I  think  it  was  peppermint,  but  am  not  sure; 
which  comforted  them  still  more. 

"Did  you  want  me  to  play  with  you?"  cried  the  Brownie;  "then 
here  I  am.  What  shall  we  do  ?  Have  a  turn  on  the  ice  together  ?  " 

No  sooner  said  than  done.  The  two  children  felt  themselves 
floating  along — it  was  more  like  floating  than  running — with  Brownie 
between  them;  up  the  lake,  and  down  the  lake,  and  across  the  lake, 
not  at  all  interfering  with  the  sliders — indeed,  it  was  a  great  deal 
better  than  sliding.  Rosy  and  breathless,  their  toes  so  nice  and 
warm,  and  their  hands  feeling  like  mince-pies  just  taken  out  of  the 
oven — the  little  ones  came  to  a  standstill. 

The  elder  ones  stopped  their  sliding,  and  looked  toward  Brownie 
with  entreating  eyes.  He  swung  himself  up  to  a  willow  bough,  and 
then  turned  head  over  heels  on  to  the  ice. 

"Halloo!  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  big  ones  want  a  race  too! 
Well,  come  along — if  the  two  eldest  will  give  a  slide  to  the  little  ones. " 

He  watched  them  take  a  tiny  sister  between  them,  and  slide  her 
up  one  slide  and  down  another,  screaming  with  delight.  Then  he 
took  the  two  middle  children  in  either  hand. 

"One,  two,  three,  and  away!"  Off  they  started — scudding  along 
as  light  as  feathers  and  as  fast  as  steam-engines,  over  the  smooth, 
black  ice,  so  clear  that  they  could  see  the  bits  of  stick  and  water- 
grasses  frozen  in  it,  and  even  the  little  fishes  swimming  far  down  below 
— if  they  had  only  looked  long  enough. 

When  all  had  had  their  fair  turns,  they  began  to  be  frightfully 
hungry. 

"Catch  a  fish  for  dinner,  and  I'll  lend  you  a  hook,"  said  Brownie. 
At  which  they  all  laughed,  and  then  looked  rather  grave.  Pulling 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNTE 


The  two  little  children  felt  themselves  floating  along— with  Brownie  between  them— Page  64 


THE   ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  67 

a  cold,  raw  live  fish  from  under  the  ice  and  eating  it  was  not  a  pleasant 
idea  of  dinner.  "Well,  what  would  you  like  to  have?  Let  the  little 
one  choose." 

She  said,  after  thinking  a  minute,  that  she  should  like  a  currant- 
cake. 

"And  I'd  give  all  you  a  bit  of  it — a  very  large  bit — I  would  indeed!" 
added  she,  almost  with  the  tears  in  her  eyes — she  was  so  very 
hungry. 

"Do  it,  then!"  said  the  Brownie,  in  his  little  squeaking  voice. 

Immediately  the  stone  that  the  little  girl  was  sitting  on — a  round, 
hard  stone,  and  so  cold! — turned  into  a  nice  hot  cake — so  hot  that 
she  jumped  up  directly.  As  soon  as  she  saw  what  it  was,  she  clapped 
her  hands  for  joy. 

"Oh,  what  a  beautiful,  beautiful  cake!  only  we  haven't  got  a 
knife  to  cut  it." 

The  boys  felt  in  all  their  pockets,  but  somehow  their  knives  never 
were  there  when  they  were  wanted. 

"Look!  you've  got  one  in  your  hand!"  said  Brownie  to  the  little 
one ;  and  that  minute  a  bit  of  stick  she  held  turned  into  a  bread-knife 
— silver,  with  an  ivory  handle — big  enough  and  sharp  enough, 
without  being  too  sharp.  For  the  youngest  girl  was  not  allowed  to  use 
sharp  knives,  though  she  liked  cutting  things  excessively,  especially 
cakes. 

"That  will  do.  Sit  you  down  and  carve  the  dinner.  Fair  shares 
and  don't  let  any  body  eat  too  much.  Now  begin,  ma'am,"  said 
the  Brownie,  quite  politely,  as  if  she  had  been  ever  so  old. 

Oh,  how  proud  the  little  girl  was.  How  bravely  she  set  to  work, 
and  cut  five  of  the  biggest  slices  you  ever  saw,  and  gave  them  to  her 


68  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

brothers  and  sisters,  and  was  just  going  to  take  the  sixth  slice  for 
herself,  when  she  remembered  the  Brownie. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  she,  as  politely  as  he,  though  she  was 
such  a  very  little  girl,  and  turned  round  to  the  wee  brown  man.  But 
he  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  The  slices  of  cake  in  the  children's 
hands  remained  cake,  and  uncommonly  good  it  was,  and  such  sub- 
stantial eating  that  it  did  nearly  the  same  as  dinner;  but  the  cake 
itself  turned  suddenly  to  a  stone  again,  and  the  knife  into  a  bit  of 
stick. 

For  there  was  the  Gardener  coming  clumping  along  by  the  bank 
of  the  lake,  and  growling  as  he  went. 

"Have  you  got  the  kangaroo?"  shouted  the  children,  determined 
to  be  civil,  if  possible. 

"This  place  is  bewitched,  I  think,"  said  he,  "The  kangaroo  was 
fast  asleep  in  the  cow-shed.  What!  how  dare  you  laugh  at  me  ?" 

But  they  hadn't  laughed  at  all.  And  they  found  it  no  laughing 
matter,  poor  children,when  Gardener  came  on  the  ice,  and  began  to 
scold  them  and  order  them  about.  He  was  perfectly  savage  with 
crossness;  for  the  people  at  Giles's  Farm  had  laughed  at  him  very 
much,  and  he  did  not  like  to  be  laughed  at  — and  at  the  top  of  the 
field  he  had  by  chance  met  his  mistress,  and  she  asked  him  severe- 
ly how  he  could  think  of  leaving  the  children  alone. 

Altogether,  his  conscience  pricked  him  a  good  deal,  ana  when 
people's  consciences  prick  them,  sometimes  they  get  angry  with 
other  people,  which  is  very  silly,  and  only  makes  matters  worse. 

!*  What  have  you  been  doing  all  this  time  ?"  said  he 

"All  this  five  minutes?"  said  the  oldest  boy,  mischievously;  for 
Gardener  was  only  to  be  away  five  minutes,  and  he  had  staid  a  full 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  «9 

hour.     Also,  when  he  fumbled  in  his  pocket  for  the  children's  lunch 
—to  stop  their  tongues,  perhaps — he  found  it  was  not  there. 

They  set  up  a  great  outcry;  for,  in  spite  of  the  cake,  they  could 
have  eaten  a  little  more.  Indeed,  the  frost  had  such  an  effect  upon 
all  their  appetites,  that  they  felt  not  unlike  that  celebrated  gentle- 
man of  whom  it  is  told  that 

"  He  ate  a  cow,  and  ate  a  calf, 

He  ate  an  ox,  and  ate  a  half; 

He  ate  a  church,  he  ate  the  steeple, 

He  ate  the  priest,  and  all  the  people, 

And  said  he  hadn't  had  enough  then." 

"We're  so  hungry,  so  very  hungry!  Couldn't  you  go  back  again 
and  fetch  us  some  dinner  ?"  cried  they,  entreatingly. 

"Not  I,  indeed.  You  may  go  back  to  dinner  yourselves.  You 
shall,  indeed,  for  I  want  my  dinner  too.  Two  hours  is  plenty  long 
enough  to  stop  on  the  ice." 

"It  isn't  two  hours — it's  only  one." 

"Well,  one  will  do  better  than  more.  You're  all  right  now — and 
you  might  soon  tumble  in,  or  break  your  legs  on  the  slide.  So  come 
away  home." 

It  wasn't  kind  of  Gardener,  and  I  don't  wonder  the  children  felt 
it  hard;  indeed,  the  eldest  boy  resisted  stoutly. 

"Mother  said  we  might  stop  all  day,  and  we  will  stop  all  day. 
You  may  go  home  if  you  like." 

"I  won't,  and  you  shall!"  said  Gardener,  smacking  a  whip  that 
he  carried  in  his  hand.  "Stop  till  I  catch  you,  and  I'll  give  you  this 
about  your  back,  my  fine  gentleman." 

And  he  tried  to  follow,  but  the  little  fellow  darted  across  the  ice. 


70  THE  ADVENTURES  OF   A  BROWNIE 

objecting  to  be  either  caught  or  whipped.  It  may  have  been  rather 
naughty,  but  I  am  afraid  it  was  great  fun  dodging  the  Gardener  up 
and  down;  he  being  too  timid  to  go  on  the  slippery  ice,  and  sometimes 
getting  so  close  that  the  whip  nearly  touched  the  lad. 

" Bless  us!  there's  the  kangaroo  again!"  said  he,  starting.  Just 
as  he  had  caught  the  boy,  and  lifted  the  whip,  the  creature  was  seen 
hop-hopping  from  bank  to  bank.  "I  can't  surely  be  mistaken  this 
time;  I  must  catch  it." 

Which  seemed  quite  easy,  for  it  limped  as  if  it  was  lame,  or  as  if 
the  frost  had  bitten  its  toes,  poor  beast!  Gardener  went  after  it, 
walking  cautiously  on  the  slippery,  crackling  ice,  and  never  minding 
whether  or  not  he  walked  on  the  slides,  though  they  called  out  to  him 
that  his  nailed  boots  would  spoil  them. 

But  whether  it  was  that  ice  which  bears  a  boy  will  not  bear  a  man, 
or  whether  at  each  lame  step  of  the  kangaroo  there  came  a  great  crack, 
is  more  than  I  can  tell.  However,  just  as  Gardener  reached  the 
middle  of  the  lake,  the  ice  suddenly  broke,  and  in  he  popped. — The 
kangaroo  too,  apparently,  for  it  was  not  seen  afterward. 

What  a  hullaballoo  the  poor  man  made !  Not  that  he  was  drown- 
ing— the  lake  was  too  shallow  to  drown  any  body,  but  he  got  terribly 
wet,  and  the  water  wTas  very  cold.  He  soon  scrambled  out,  the  boys 
helping  him;  and  then  he  hobbled  home  as  fast  as  he  could,  not  even 
saying  thank  you,  or  taking  the  least  notice  of  them. 

Indeed,  nobody  took  notice  of  them — nobody  came  to  fetch  them, 
and  they  might  have  staid  sliding  the  whole  afternoon.  Only  some- 
how they  did  not  feel  quite  easy  in  their  minds.  And  though  the 
hole  in  the  ice  closed  up  immediately,  and  it  seemed  as  firm  as  ever, 
still  they  did  not  like  to  slide  upon  it  again. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 


71 


"I  think  we  had  better  go  home  and  tell  mother  every  thing," 
said  one  of  them.  "Besides,  we  ought  to  see  what  has  become  of 
poor  Gardener.  He  was  very  wet. " 

"Yes,  but  oh,  how  funny  he 
looked!"  And  they  all  burst  out 
laughing  at  the  recollection  of  the 
figure  he  cut,  scrambling  out 
through  the  ice  with  his  trowsers 
dripping  up  to  the  knees,  and  the 
water  running  out  of  his  boots, 
making  a  little  pool,  wherever  he 
stepped. 

"And  it  freezes  so  hard,  that  by 
the  time  he  gets  home  his  clothes 
will  be  as  stiff  as  a  board.  His 
wife  will  have  to  put  him  to  the 
fire  to  thaw  before  he  can  get  out 
of  them." 

Again  the  little  people  burst  in- 
to shouts  of  laughter.  Although 
they  laughed,  they  were  a  little 
sorry  for  the  poor  old  Gardener, 
and  hoped  no  great  harm  had  come  to  him,  but  that  he  had  got  safe 
home  and  been  dried  by  his  own  warm  fire. 

The  frosty  mist  was  beginning  already  to  rise,  and  the  sun,  though 
still  high  up  in  the  sky,  looked  like  a  ball  of  red-hot  iron  as  the  six 
children  went  homeward  across  the  fields — merry  enough  still,  but 
not  quite  so  merry  as  they  had  been  a  few  hours  before. 


The  ice  suddenl    broke,  and  in  he  popped. 


72 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 


"Let's  hope  mother  won't  be  vexed  with  us,"  said  they,  "but  will 
let  us  come  back  again  to-morrow.  It  wasn't  our  fault  that  Gar- 
dener tumbled  in." 

As  somebody  said  this,  they  all  heard  quite  distinctly,  "Ha,  ha, 
ha!"  and  "Ho,  ho,  ho!"  and  a  sound  of  little  steps  pattering  behind. 

But  whatever  they  thought,  nobody  ventured  to  say  that  it  was  the 
fault  of  the  Brownie. 


ADVENTURE  THE  SIXTH 
AND  LAST 


T 


BROWNIE   AND   THE    CLOTHES 

ILL  the  next  time;  but  when  there 
is  a  Brownie  in  the  house,  no 
one  can  say  that  any  of  his  tricks  will  be  the  last.  For  there's  no 
stopping  a  Brownie,  and  no  getting  rid  of  him  either.  This  one  had 
followed  the  family  from  house  to  house,  generation  after  generation — 
never  any  older,  and  sometimes  seeming  even  to  grow  younger  by 
the  tricks  he  played.  In  fact,  though  he  looked  like  an  old  man,  he 
was  a  perpetual  child. 

To  the  children  he  never  did  any  harm,  quite  the  contrary.  And 
his  chief  misdoings  were  against  those  who  vexed  the  children.  But 
he  gradually  made  friends  with  several  of  his  grown  up  enemies. 
Cook,  for  instance,  who  had  ceased  to  be  lazy  at  night  and  late  in 
the  morning,  found  no  more  black  footmarks  on  her  white  table  cloth. 
And  Brownie  found  his  basin  of  milk  waiting  for  him,  night  after 
night,  behind  the  coal-cellar  door. 

Bill,  too,  got  on  well  enough  with  his  pony,  and  Jess  was  taken 
no  more  night-rides.  No  ducks  were  lost;  and  Dolly  gave  her  milk 
quite  comfortably  to  whoever  milked  her.  Alas!  this  was  either 

73 


74  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

Bill  or  the  Gardener's  wife  now.  After  that  adventure  on  the  ice, 
poor  Gardener  very  seldom  appeared;  when  he  did,  it  was  on  two 
crutches,  for  he  had  had  rheumatism  in  his  feet,  and  could  not  stir 
outside  his  cottage  door.  Bill,  therefore,  had  double  work;  which 
was  probably  all  the  better  for  Bill. 

The  garden  had  to  take  care  of  itself;  but  this  being  winter-time,  it 
did  not  much  signify.  Besides,  Brownie  seldom  went  into  the 
garden,  except  in  summer;  during  the  hard  weather  he  preferred 
to  stop  in  his  coal-cellar.  It  might  not  have  been  a  lively  place, 
but  it  was  warm,  and  he  liked  it. 

He  had  company  there,  too;  for  when  the  cat  had  more  kittens — 
the  kitten  he  used  to  tease  being  grown  up  now — they  were  all  put 
in  a  hamper  in  the  coal-cellar;  and  of  cold  nights  Brownie  used  to 
jump  in  beside  them,  and  be  as  warm  and  as  cozy  as  a  kitten  himself. 
The  little  things  never  were  heard  to  mew;  so  it  may  be  supposed 
they  liked  his  society.  And  the  old  mother-cat  evidently  bore  him 
no  malice  for  the  whipping  she  had  got  by  mistake ;  so  Brownie  must 
have  found  means  of  coaxing  her  over.  One  thing  you  may  be 
sure  of — all  the  while  she  and  her  kittens  were  in  his  coal-cellar,  he 
took  care  never  to  turn  himself  into  a  mouse. 

He  was  spending  the  winter,  on  the  whole,  very  comfortably, 
without  much  trouble  either  to  himself  or  his  neighbors,  when  one 
day,  the  coal-cellar  being  nearly  empty,  two  men,  and  a  great  wagon- 
load  of  coals  behind  them,  came  to  the  door,  Gardener's  wife  fol- 
lowing. 

"My  man  says  you're  to  give  the  cellar  a  good  cleaning  out  before 
you  put  any  more  in,"  said  she,  in  her  sharp  voice;  "and  don't  be 
lazy  about  it.  It'll  not  take  you  ten  minutes,  for  it's  nearly  all  coal- 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  75 

dust,  except  that  one  big  lump  in  the  corner — you  might  clear  that 
out  too." 

"Stop,  it's  the  Brownie's  lump!  better  not  meddle  with  it,"  whis- 
pered the  little  scullery-maid. 

"Don't  you  meddle  with  matters  that  can't  concern  you,"  said 
the  Gardener's  wife,  who  had  been  thinking  what  a  nice  help  it  would 
be  to  her  fire.  To  be  sure,  it  was  not  her  lump  of  coal,  but  she 
thought  she  might  take  it;  the  mistress  would  never  miss  it,  or  the 
Brownie  either.  He  must  be  a  very  silly  old  Brownie  to  live  under 
a  lump  of  coal. 

So  she  argued  with  herself,  and  made  the  men  lift  it.  "You  must 
lift  it,  you  see,  if  you  are  to  sweep  the  coal-cellar  out  clean.  And 
you  may  as  well  put  it  on  the  barrow,  and  I'll  wheel  it  out  of  your 
way." 

This  she  said  in  quite  a  civil  voice,  lest  they  should  tell  of  her,  and 
stood  by  while  it  was  being  done.  It  was  done  without  any  thing 
happening,  except  that  a  large  rat  ran  out  of  the  coal-cellar  door, 
bouncing  against  her  feet,  and  frightening  her  so  much  that  she 
nearly  tumbled  down. 

"See  what  nonsense  it  is  to  talk  of  Brownies  living  in  a  coal-cellar. 
Nothing  lives  there  but  rats,  and  I'll  have  them  poisoned  pretty  soon, 
and  get  rid  of  them." 

But  she  was  rather  frightened  all  the  same,  for  the  rat  had  been 
such  a  very  big  rat,  and  had  looked  at  her,  as  it  darted  past,  with 
such  wild,  bright,  mischievous  eyes — brown  eyes,  of  course — that 
she  all  but  jumped  with  surprise. 

However,  she  had  got  her  lump  of  coal,  and  was  wheeling  it  quietly 
away,  nobody  seeing,  to  her  cottage  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden.  She 


70  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

was  a  hard-worked  woman,  and  her  husband's  illness  made  things 
harder  for  her.  Still,  she  was  not  quite  easy  at  taking  what  did  not 
belong  to  her. 

"I  don't  suppose  any  body  will  miss  the  coal."  she  repeated. 
"I  dare  say  the  mistress  would  have  given  it  to  me  if  I  had  asked  her; 
and  as  for  its  being  the  Brownie's  lump — fudge!  Bless  us!  what's 
that?" 

For  the  barrow  began  to  creak  dreadfully,  and  every  creak  sounded 
like  the  cry  of  a  child,  just  as  if  the  wheel  were  going  over  its  leg 
and  crushing  its  poor  little  bones. 

"What  a  horrid  noise!  I  must  grease  the  barrow.  If  only  I 
knew  where  they  keep  the  grease-box.  All  goes  wrong,  now  my  old 
man's  laid  up.  Oh,  dear!  oh  dear!" 

For  suddenly  the  barrow  had  tilted  over,  though  there  was  not  a 
single  stone  near,  and  the  big  coal  was  tumbled  on  to  the  ground, 
where  it  broke  into  a  thousand  pieces.  Gathering  it  up  again  was 
hopeless,  and  it  made  such  a  mess  on  the  gravel-walk,  that  the  old 
woman  was  thankful  her  misfortune  happened  behind  the  privet 
hedge,  where  nobody  was  likely  to  come. 

"I'll  take  a  broom  and  sweep  it  up  to-morrow.  Nobody  goes  near 
the  orchard  now,  except  me  when  I  hang  out  the  clothes;  so  I  need 
say  nothing  about  it  to  the  old  man  or  any  body.  But  ah !  deary  me, 
what  a  beautiful  lot  of  coal  I've  lost!" 

She  stood  and  looked  at  it  mournfully,  and  then  went  into  her  cottage, 
where  she  found  two  or  three  of  the  little  children  keeping  Gardener 
company.  They  did  not  dislike  to  do  this  now;  but  he  was  so  much 
kinder  than  he  used  to  be — so  quiet  and  patient,  though  he  suffered 
very  much.  And  he  had  never  once  reproached  them  for  what  they 


THE   ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  77 

always  remembered — how  it  was  ever  since  he  was  on  the  ice  with 
them  that  he  had  got  the  rheumatism. 

So,  one  or  other  of  them  made  a  point  of  going  to  see  him  every 
day,  and  telling  him  all  the  funny 
things  they  could  think  of — indeed, 
it  was  a  contest  among  them  who 
should  first  make  Gardener  laugh. 
They  did  not  succeed  in  doing 
that  exactly;  but  they  managed  to 
make  him  smile;  and  he  was  al- 
ways gentle  and  grateful  to  them; 
so  that  they  sometimes  thought 
it  was  rather  nice  his  being  ill. 

But  his  wife  was  not  pleasant; 
she  grumbled  all  day  long,  and 
snapped  at  him  and  his  visitors; 
being  especially  snappish  this  day, 
because  she  had  lost  her  big  coal. 

"I  can't  have  you  children  come 
bothering  here,"  said  she,  crossly. 
"I  want  to  wring  out  my  clothes, 
and  hang  them  to  dry.  Be  off  with 


you! 


Suddenly  the  barrow  had  tilted  over. 


"Let  us  stop  a  little — just  to  tell  Gardener  this  one  curious  thing 
about  Dolly  and  the  pig — and  then  we'll  help  you  to  take  your  clothes 
to  the  orchard;  we  can  carry  your  basket  between  us — we  can,  indeed. " 

That  was  the  last  thing  the  woman  wished;  for  she  knew  the 
that  the  children  would  be  sure  to  see  the  mess  on  the  gravel-walk — 


78  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

and  they  were  such  inquisitive  children — they  noticed  every  thing. 
They  would  want  to  know  all  about  it,  and  how  the  bits  of  coal  came 
there.  It  was  very  a  awkward  position.  But  people  who  take  other 
people's  property  often  do  find  themselves  in  awkward  positions. 

"Thank  you,  young  gentlemen,"  said  she,  quite  politely;  "but 
indeed  the  bakset  is  too  heavy  for  you.  However,  you  may  stop 
and  gossip  a  little  longer  with  my  old  man.  He  likes  it. " 

And,  while  they  were  shut  up  with  Gardener  in  his  bedroom,  off 
she  went,  carrying  the  basket  on  her  head,  and  hung  her  clothes 
carefully  out — the  big  things  on  lines  between  the  fruit  trees,  and  the 
little  things,  such  as  stockings  and  pocket  handkerchiefs,  stuck  on 
the  gooseberry-bushes,  or  spread  upon  the  clean  green  grass. 

"Such  a  fine  day  as  it  is!  they'll  dry  directly,"  said  she,  cheerfully, 
to  herself.     "Plenty  of  sun,  and  not  a  breath  of  wind  to  blow  them 
about.     I'll  leave  them  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  come  and  fetch  them 
in  before  it  grows  dark.     Then  I  shall  get  all  my  folding  done  by 
bedtime,  and  have  a  clear  day  for  ironing  to-morrow. " 

But  when  she  did  fetch  them  in,  having  bundled  them  all  together 
in  the  dusk  of  the  evening,  never  was  such  a  sight  as  those  clothes! 
They  were  all  twisted  in  the  oddest  way — the  stockings  turned  inside 
out,  with  the  heels  and  toes  tucked  into  the  legs;  the  sleeves  of  the 
shirts  tied  together  in  double  knots,  the  pocket-handkerchiefs  made 
into  round  balls,  so  tight  that  if  you  had  pelted  a  person  with  them 
they  would  have  given  very  hard  bolws  indeed.  And  the  whole 
looked  as  if,  instead  of  lying  quietly  on  the  grass  and  bushes,  they  had 
been  dragged  through  heaps  of  mud  and  then  stamped  upon,  so  that 
there  was  not  a  clean  inch  upon  them  from  end  to  end. 

"What  a  horrid  mess!"  cried  the  Gardener's  wife,  who  had  been 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  79 

at  first  very  angry,  and  then  very  frightened.  "But  I  know  what  it 
it;  that  nasty  Boxer  has  got  loose  again.  It's  he  that  has  done  it." 

"Boxer  wouldn't  tie  shirt-sleeves  in  double  knots,  or  make  balls 
of  pocket-handkerchiefs, "  Gardener  was  heard  to  answer,  solemnly. 

"Then  it's  those  horrid  children;  they  are  always  up  to  some 
mischief  or  other — just  let  me  catch  them!" 

"You'd  better  not,"  said  somebody  in  a  voice  exactly  like  Gar- 
dener's, though  he  himself  declared  he  had  not  spoken  a  word.  In- 
deed, he  was  fast  asleep. 

"Well,  it's  the  most  extraordinary  thing  I  ever  heard  of,"  the 
Gardener's  wife  said,  supposing  she  was  talking  to  her  husband  all  the 
time;  but  soon  she  held  her  tongue,  for  she  found  here  and  there 
among  the  clothes  all  sorts  of  queer  marks — marks  of  fingers,  and 
toes,  and  heels,  not  in  mud  at  all,  but  in  coal-dust,  as  black  as  black 
could  be. 

Now,  as  the  place  where  the  big  coal  had  tumbled  out  of  the 
barrow  was  fully  fifty  yards  from  the  orchard,  and,  as  the  coal  could 
not  come  to  the  clothes,  and  the  clothes  could  not  go  without  hands, 
the  only  conclusion  she  could  arrive  at  was — well,  no  particular 
conclusion  at  all! 

It  was  too  late  that  night  to  begin  washing  again ;  besides,  she  was 
extremely  tired,  and  her  husband  woke  up  rather  worse  than  usual, 
so  she  just  bundled  the  clothes  up  anyhow  in  a  corner,  put  the  kitchen 
to  rights,  and  went  mournfully  to  bed. 

Next  morning  she  got  up  long  before  it  was  light,  washed  her 
clothes  through  all  over  again,  and,  it  being  impossible  to  dry  them 
by  the  fire,  went  out  with  them  once  more,  and  began  spreading 
them  out  in  their  usual  corner,  in  a  hopeless  and  melancholy  manner. 


80  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

While  ske  was  at  it,  the  little  folks  came  trooping  around  her.  She 
didn't  scold  them  this  time,  she  was  too  low-spirited. 

"No!  my  old  man  isn't  any  better,  and  I  don't  fancy  he  ever  will 
be,"  said  she,  in  answer  to  their  questions.  "And  every  thing's 
going  wrong  with  us — just  listen!"  And  she  told  the  trick  which 
had  been  played  her  about  the  clothes. 

The  little  people  tried  not  to  laugh,  but  it  was  so  funny;  and  even 
now,  the  minute  she  had  done  hanging  them  out,  there  was  some- 
thing so  droll  in  the  way  the  clothes  blew  about,  without  any  wind; 
the  shirts  hanging  with  their  necks  donwward,  as  if  there  was  a  man 
inside  them;  and  the  drawers  standing  stiffly  astride  on  the  goose- 
berry-bushes, for  all  the  world  as  if  they  held  a  pair  of  legs  still.  As 
for  Gardener's  night-caps — long,  white  cotton,  with  a  tassel  at  the 
top — they  were  alarming  to  look  at;  just  like  a  head  stuck  on  the  top 
of  a  pole. 

The  whole  thing  was  so  peculiar,  and  the  old  woman  so  comical 
in  her  despair,  that  the  children,  after  trying  hard  to  keep  it  in,  at 
last  broke  into  shouts  of  laughter.  She  turned  furiously  upon  them. 

"It  was  you  who  did  it!" 

"No,  indeed  it  wasn't!"  said  they,  jumping  farther  to  escape 
her  blows.  For  she  had  got  one  of  her  clothes-props,  and  was  laying 
about  her  in  the  most  reckless  manner.  However,  she  hurt  nobody, 
and  then  she  suddenly  burst  out,  not  laughing,  but  crying. 

"It's  a  cruel  thing,  whoever  has  done  it,  to  play  such  tricks  on  a 
poor  old  body  like  me,  with  a  sick  husband  that  she  works  hard  for, 
and  not  a  child  to  help  her.  But  I  don't  care.  I'll  wash  my  clothes 
again,  if  it's  twenty  times  over,  and  I'll  hang  them  out  again  in  the 
very  place,  just  to  make  you  all  ashamed  of  yourselves.'' 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  81 

Perhaps  the  little  people  were  ashamed  of  themselves,  though 
they  really  had  not  done  the  mischief.  But  they  knew  quite  well 
who  had  done  it,  and  more  than  once  they  were  about  to  tell;  only 
they  were  afraid,  if  they  did  so,  they  should  vex  the  Brownie  so  much 
that  he  would  never  come  and  play  with  them  any  more. 

So  they  looked  at  one  another  without  speaking,  and  when  the  Gar- 
dener's wife  had  emptied  her  basket  and  dried  her  eyes,  they  said 
to  hej,  very  kindly: 

"Perhaps  no  harm  may  come  to  your  clothes  this  time.  We'll 
sit  and  watch  them  till  they  are  dry." 

"Just  as  you  like;  I  don't  care.  Them  that  hides  can  find,  and 
thuem  that  plays  tricks  knows  how  to  stop  'em." 

It  was  not  a  civil  speech,  but  then  things  were  hard  for  the  poor  old 
woman.  She  had  been  awake  nearly  all  night,  and  up  washing  at 
daybreak;  her  eyes  were  red  with  crying,  and  her  steps  weary  and 
slow.  The  little  children  felt  quite  sorry  for  her,  and,  instead  of 
going  to  play,  sat  watching  the  clothes  as  patiently  as  possible. 

Nothing  came  near  them.  Sometimes,  as  before,  the  things  seemed 
to  dance  about  without  hands,  and  turn  into  odd  shapes,  as  if  there 
were  people  inside  them ;  but  not  a  creature  was  seen  and  not  a  sound 
was  heard.  And  though  there  was  neither  wind  nor  sun,  very  soon 
all  the  linen  was  perfectly  dry. 

"  Fetch  one  of  mother's  baskets,  and  we'll  fold  it  up  as  tidily  as 
possible — that  is,  the  girls  can  do  it,  it's  their  business — and  we  boys 
will  carry  it  safe  to  Gardener's  cottage." 

So  said  they,  not  liking  to  say  that  they  could  not  trust  it  out  of 
their  sight  for  fear  of  Brownie,  whom,  indeed,  they  were  expecting 
to  see  peer  round  from  every  bush.  They  began  to  have  a  secret 


8«  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

fear  that  he  was  rather  a  naughty  Brownie;  but  then,  as  the  eldest 
little  girl  whispered,  "He  was  only  a  Brownie,  and  knew  no  better." 
Now  they  were  growing  quite  big  children,  who  would  be  men  and 
women  some  time;  when  they  hoped  they  would  never  do  any  thing 
wrong.  (Their  parents  hoped  the  same,  but  doubted  it.) 

In  a  serious  and  careful  manner  they  folded  up  the  clothes,  and 
laid  them  one  by  one  in  the  basket  without  any  mischief,  until,  just 
as  the  two  biggest  boys  were  lifting  their  burden  to  carry  it  away, 
they  felt  something  tugging  at  it  from  underneath. 

"Halloo!  Where  are  you  taking  all  this  rubbish?  Better  give 
it  to  me. " 

"No,  if  you  please,"  said  they,  very  civilly,  not  to  offend  the  little 
brown  man.  "We'll  not  trouble  you,  thanks!  We'd  rather  do  it 
ourselves;  for  poor  Gardener  is  very  ill,  and  his  wife  is  very  miserable, 
and  we  are  extremely  sorry  for  them  both." 

"Extremely  sorry!"  cried  Brownie,  throwing  up  his  cap  in  the 
air,  and  tumbling  head  over  heels  in  an  excited  manner.  "What 
in  the  world  does  extremely  sorry  mean?" 

The  children  could  not  explain,  especially  to  a  Brownie;  but  they 
thought  they  understood — anyhow,  they  felt  it.  And  they  looked  so 
sorrowful  that  the  Brownie  could  not  tell  what  to  make  of  it. 

He  could  not  be  said  to  be  sorry,  since,  being  a  Brownie,  and  not 
a  human  being,  knowing  right  from  wrong,  he  never  tried  particularly 
to  do  right,  and  had  no  idea  that  he  was  doing  wrong.  But  he  seemed 
to  have  an  idea  that  he  was  troubling  the  children,  and  he  never  liked 
to  see  them  look  unhappy. 

So  he  turned  head  over  heels  six  times  running,  and  then  came 
back  again. 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  88 

"The  silly  old  woman!  I  washed  her  clothes  for  her  last  night 
in  a  way  she  didn't  expect  I  hadn't  any  soap,  so  I  used  a  little 
mud  and  coal-dust,  and  very  pretty  they  looked.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Shall 
I  wash  them  over  again  to-night?' 

"Oh,  no,  please  don't!"  implored  the  children. 

"Shall  I  starch  and  iron  them?  I'll  do  it  beautifully.  One — 
two — three,  five — six — seven,  Abracadabra,  turn — turn — ti!"  shouted 
he,  jabbering  all  sorts  of  nonsense,  as  it  seemed  to  the  children,  and 
playing  such  antics  that  they  stood  and  stared  in  the  utmost  amaze- 
ment, and  quite  forgot  the  clothes.  When  they  looked  round  again, 
the  basket  was  gone. 

"  Seek  till  you  find,  seek  till  you  find, 
Under  the  biggest  gooseberry-bush,  exactly  to  your  mind." 

They  heard  him  singing  this  remarkable  rhyme,  long  after  they 
had  lost  sight  of  him.  And  then  they  all  set  about  searching;  but  it 
was  a  long  while  before  they  found,  and  still  longer  before  they  could 
decide,  which  was  the  biggest  gooseberry-bush,  each  child  having 
his  or  her  opinion — sometimes  a  very  strong  one — on  the  matter. 
At  last  they  agreed  to  settle  it  by  pulling  half-a-dozen  little  sticks, 
to  see  which  stick  was  the  longest,  and  the  child  that  held  it  was  to 
decide  the  gooseberry-bush. 

This  done,  underneath  the  branches  what  should  they  find  but 
the  identical  basket  of  clothes!  only,  instead  of  being  roughly  dried, 
they  were  all  starched  and  ironed  in  the  most  beautiful  manner.  As 
for  the  shirts,  they  really  were  a  picture  to  behold,  and  the  stockings 
were  all  folded  up,  and  even  darned  in  one  or  two  places,  as  neatly 
as  possible.  And  strange  to  tell,  there  was  not  a  single  black  mark 
of  feet  or  fingers  on  any  one  of  them. 


84  THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 

"Kind  little  Brownie!  clever  little  Brownie!"  cried  the  children 
in  chorus,  and  thought  this  was  the  most  astonishing  trick  he  had 
ever  played. 

What  the  Gardener's  wife  said  about  it,  whether  they  told  her  any 
thing,  or  allowed  her  to  suppose  that  the  clothes  had  been  done  in 
their  own  laundry  instead  of  the  Brownie's  (wherever  that  establish- 
ment might  be),  is  more  than  I  can  tell.  Of  one  thing  only  I  am 
certain — that  the  little  people  said  nothing  but  what  was  true.  Also, 
that  the  very  minute  they  got  home  they  told  their  mother  every  thing. 

But  for  a  long  time  after  that  they  were  a  good  deal  troubled. 
Gardener  got  better,  and  went  hobbling  about  the  place  again,  to 
his  own  and  every  body's  great  content,  and  his  wife  was  less  sharp- 
tongued  and  complaining  than  usual — indeed,  she  had  nothing  to 
complain  of.  All  the  family  were  very  flourishing,  except  the  little 
Brownie. 

Often  there  was  heard  a  curious  sound  all  over  the  house ;  it  might 
have  been  rats  squeaking  behind  the  wainscot — the  elders  said  it 
was — but  the  children  were  sure  it  was  a  sort  of  weeping  and  wailing. 

'They've  stolen  my  coal, 
And  I  haven't  a  hole 

To  hide  in; 
Not  even  a  house 
One  could  ask  a  mouse 

To  bide  in." 

A  most  forlorn  tune  it  was,  ending  in  a  dreary  minor  key,  and  it 
lasted  for  months  and  months — at  least  the  children  said  it  did. 
And  they  were  growing  quite  dull  for  want  of  a  playfellow,  when, 
by  the  greatest  good  luck  in  the  world,  there  came  to  the  house  not 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE 


new  baby  was  everybody's  pet. — Page  87 


THE  ADVENTURES  OF  A  BROWNIE  87 

only  a  new  lot  of  kittens,  but  a  new  baby.     And  the  new  baby  was 
everybody's  pet,  including  the  Brownie's. 

From  that  time,  though  he  was  not  often  seen,  he  was  continually 
heard  up  and  down  the  staircase,  where  he  was  frequently  mistaken 
for  Tiny  or  the  cat,  and  sent  sharply  down  again,  which  was  wasting 
a  great  deal  of  wholesome  anger  upon  Mr.  Nobody.  Or  he  lurked 
in  odd  corners  of  the  nursery,  whither  the  baby  was  seen  crawling 
eagerly  after  nothing  in  particular,  or  sitting  laughing  with  all  her 
might  at  something — probably  her  own  toes. 

But, -as  Brownie  was  never  seen,  he  was  never  suspected.  And 
since  he  did  no  mischief — neither  pinched  the  baby  nor  broke  the 
toys,  left  no  soap  in  the  bath  and  no  footmarks  about  the  room- 
but  was  always  a  well-conducted  Brownie  in  every  way,  he  was 
allowed  to  inhabit  the  nursery  (or  supposed  to  do  so,  since,  as  nobody 
saw  him,  nobody  could  prevent  him),  until  the  children  were  grown 
up  into  men  and  women. 

After  that  he  retired  into  his  coal-cellar,  and,  for  all  I  know,  he 
may  live  there  still,  and  have  gone  through  hundreds  of  adventures 
since;  but  as  I  never  heard  them,  I  can't  tell  them.  Only  I  think, 
if  I  could  be  a  little  child  again,  I  should  exceedingly  like  a  Brownie 
to  play  with  me.  Should  not  you  ? 


THE  BLACKBIRD  AND  THE  ROOKS. 

A  SLENDER  young  Blackbird  built  in  a  thorn-tree 
A  spruce  little  fellow  as  ever  could  be; 
His  bill  was  so  yellow,  his  feathers  so  black, 
So  long  was  his  tail,  and  so  glossy  his  back, 
That  good  Mrs.  B.,  who  sat  hatching  her  eggs, 
And  only  just  left  them  to  stretch  her  poor  legs, 
And  pick  for  a  minute  the  worm  she  preferred, 
Thought  there  never  was  seen  such  a  beautiful  bird. 

And  such  a  kind  husband!  how  early  and  late 
He  would  sit  at  the  top  of  the  old  garden  gate, 
And  sing,  just  as  merry  as  if  it  were  June, 
Being  ne'er  out  of  patience,  or  temper,  or  tune. 
"So  unlike  those  Rooks,  dear;  from  morning  till 

night 

They  seem  to  do  nothing  but  quarrel  and  fight, 
And  wrangle  and  jangle,  and  plunder — while  we 
Sit,  honest  and  safe,  in  our  pretty  thorn-tree." 

Just  while  she  was  speaking,  a  lively  young  Rook 
Alit  with  a  flap  that  the  thorn-bush  quite  shook, 
And  seizing  a  stick  from  the  nest — "Come,  I  say, 
That  will  just  suit  me,  neighbor" — flew  with  it  away 
The  lady  loud  twittered — her  husband  soon  heard: 
Though  peaceful,  he  was  not  a  cowardly  bird; 


THE   BLACKBIRD  AND   THE  ROOKS  89 

And  with  arguments  angry  enough  to  o'erwhelm 
A  whole  Rookery — flew  to  the  top  of  the  elm. 

"How  dare  you,  you — "  (thief  he  was  going  to  say; 
But  a  civiller  sentiment  came  in  the  way: 
For  he  knew  'tis  no  good,  and  it  anyhow  shames 
A  gentleman,  calling  strange  gentlemen  names:) 
"Pray  what  is  your  motive,  Sir  Rook,  for  such  tricks, 
As  building  your  mansion  with  other  folks'  sticks  ? 
I  request  you'll  restore  them,  in  justice  and  law." 
At  which  the  whole  colony  set  up  a — caw! 

But  Blackbird,  not  silenced,  then  spoke  out  again; 
"I've  built  my  small  nest  with  much  labor  and  pain. 
I'm  a  poor  singing  gentleman,  Sirs,  it  is  true, 
Though  cockneys  do  often  mistake  me  for  you; 
But  I  keep  Mrs.  Blackbird,  and  four  little  eggs, 
And  neither  e'er  pilfers,  or  borrows,  or  begs. 
Now  have  I  not  right  on  my  side,  do  you  see?" 
But  they  flew  at  and  pecked  him  all  down  the  elm- 
tree. 

Ah!  wickedness  prospers  sometimes,  I  much  fear; 
And  virtue's  not  always  victorious,  that's  clear: 
At  least,  not  at  first:  for  it  must  be  confessed 
Poor  Blackbird  lost  many  a  stick  from  his  nest; 
And  his  unkind  grand  neighbors  with  scoffing  caw- 
caws, 
In  his  voice  and  his  character  found  many  flaws, 


90  THE   BLACKBIRD   AND   THE   ROOKS 

And  jeered  him  and  mocked  him;  but  when  they'd 

all  done, 
He  flew  to  his  tree  and  sang  cheerily  on. 

At  length  May  arrived  with  her  garlands  of  leaves; 
The  swallows  were  building  beneath  the  farm-eaves, 
Wrens,  linnets,  and  sparrows,  on  every  hedge-side, 
Were  bringing  their  families  out  with  great  pride: 
While  far  above  all,  on  the  tallest  tree-top, 
With  a  flutter  and  clamor  that  never  did  stop, 
The  haughty  old  Rooks  held  their  heads  up  so  high, 
And  dreamed  not  of  trouble; — until  it  drew  nigh! 

One  morning  at  seven,  as  he  came  with  delight 

To  his  wife's  pretty  parlor  of  may-blossoms  white, 

Having  fed  all  his  family  ere  rise  of  sun, — 

Mr.  Blackbird  perceived — a  big  man  with  a  gun; 

Who  also  perceived  him:  "See,  Charlie,  among 

That  may,  sits  the  Blackbird  wre've  heard  for  so  long: 

Most  likely  his  nest's  there — how  frightened  he  looks! 

Nay,  Blackie,  we're  not  come  for  you,  but  the  Rooks." 

I  don't  say  'twas  cruel — I  can't  say  'twas  kind — 
On  the  subject  I  haven't  quite  made  up  my  mind: 
But  those  guns  went  pop-popping  all  morning,  alas! 
And  young  Rooks  kept  dropping  among  the  long  grass, 
Till  good  Mr.  Blackbird,  who  watched  the  whole   thing, 
For  pity  could  scarcely  a  single  note  sing, 


THE  SHAKING  OF  THE  PEAR-TREE  »i 

And  in  the  May  sunset  he  hardly  could  bear 
To  hear  the  returning  Rooks'  caw  of  despair. 

"O,  dear  Mrs.  Blackbird,"  at  last  warbled  he, 

"How  happy  we  are  in  our  humble  thorn-tree; 

How  gaily  we  live,  living  honest  and  poor, 

How  sweet  are  the  may-blossoms  over  our  door." 

"And  then  our  dear  children,"  the  mother  replied, 

And  she  nested  them  close  to  her  warm  feathered    side, 

And  with  a  soft  twitter  of  drowsy  content, 

Jn  the  quiet  May  moonlight  to  sleep  they  all  went. 


THE  SHAKING  OF  THE  PEAR-TREE 

OF  all  days  I  remember, 

In  summers  passed  away, 
Was  "the  shaking  of  the  pear-tree," 

In  grandma's  orchard  gay. 

A,  large  old-fashioned  orchard, 

With  long  grass  under  foot, 
And  blackberry-brambles  crawling 

In  many  a  tangled  shoot. 

From  cherry  time,  till  damsons 
Dropped  from  the  branches  sere, 

That  wonderful  old  orchard 
Was  full  of  fruit  all  year; 


THE   SHAKING   OP  THE  PEAR-TREE 

We  pick'd  it  up  in  baskets, 

Or  pluck' d  it  from  the  wall; 
But  the  shaking  of  the  pear-tree 

Was  the  grandest  treat  of  all. 

Long,  long  the  days  we  counted 

Until  that  day  drew  nigh; 
Then,  how  we  watched  the  sun  set, 

And  criticised  the  sky! 

If  rain — "'Twill  clear  at  midnight;" 
If  dawn  broke  chill  and  gray, 

"O  many  a  cloudy  morning 
Turns  out  a  lovely  day." 

So  off  we  started  gaily, 

Heedless  of  jolt  or  jar; 
Through  town  and  lane,  and  hamlet, 

In  old  Llewellyn's  car. 

He's  dead  and  gone — Llewellyn, 
These  twenty  years,  I  doubt: 

If  I  put  him  in  this  poem, 
He'll  never  find  it  out, 

The  patient,  kind  Llewellyn — 
Whose  broad  face  smiled  all  o'er, 

As  he  lifted  out  us  children 
At  grandma's  very  door. 


THE  SHAKING  OF  THE  PEAR-TREE  93 

And  there  stood  Grandma's  Betty, 

With  cheeks  like  apples  red; 
And  Dash,  the  spaniel,     waddled 

Out  of  his  cosy  bed. 

With  silky  ears  down  dropping, 

And  coat  of  chestnut  pale; 
He  was  so  fat  and  lazy 
He  scarce  could  wag  his  tail. 

Poor  Dash  is  dead,  and  buried 

Under  the  lilac-tree; 
And  Betty's  old, — as,  children, 

We  all  may  one  day  be. 

I  hope  no  child  will  vex  us, 

As  we  vexed  Betty  then, 
With  winding  up  the  draw-well, 

Or  hunting  the  old  hen. 

And  teasing,  teasing,  teasing, 

Till  afternoon  wore  round, 
And  shaken  pears  came  tumbling 

In  showers  upon  the  ground. 

O  how  we  jumped  and  shouted! 

O  how  we  plunged  amid 
The  long  grass,  where  the  treasures, 

Dropped  down  and  deftly  hid; 


94  THE  SHAKING   OF  THE  PEAR-TREE 

Long,  slender-shaped,  red-russet, 

Or  yellow  just  like  gold; 
Ah!  never  pears  have  tasted 

Like  those  sweet  pears  of  old! 

We  ate — I'd  best  not  mention 

How  many:  paused  to  fill 
Big  basket  after  basket; 

Working  with  right  good-will; 

Then  hunted  round  the  orchard 
For  half-ripe  plums — in  vain; 

So,  back  unto  the  pear-tree, 
To  eat,  and  eat  again. 

I'm  not  on  my  confession, 

And  therefore  need  not  say 
How  tired,  and  cross,  and  sleepy, 

Some  were  ere  close  of  day; 

For  pleasure  has  its  ending, 

And  eke  its  troubles  too; 
Which  you'll  find  out,  my  children, 

As  well  as  we  could  do. 


But  yet  this  very  minute, 
I  seem  to  see  it  all — 

The  pear-tree's  empty  branches 
The  gray  of  evening-fall; 


THE   WONDERFUL  APPLE-TREE  95 

The  children's  homeward  silence, 

The  furnace  fires  that  glowed, 
Each  mile  or  so,  out  streaming 

Across  the  lonely  road; 

And  high,  high  set  in  heaven, 

One  large  bright,  beauteous  star, 
That  shone  between  the  curtains 

Of  old  Llewellyn's  car. 


THE  WONDERFUL  APPLE-TREE.* 

COME  here,  my  dear  boys,  and  I'll  tell  you  a  fable, 
Which  you  may  believe  as  much  as  you're  able; 
It  isn't  all  true,  nor  all  false,  I'll  be  bound — 
Of  the  tree  that  bears  apples  all  the  year  round. 

There  was  a  Dean  Tucker  of  Gloster  city, 
Who  may  have  been  wise,  or  worthy,  or  witty; 
But  I  know  nothing  of  him,  the  more's  the  pity, 
Save  that  he  was  Dean  Tucker  of  Gloster  city. 

And  walking  one  day  with  a  musing  air 
In  his  Deanery  garden,  close  by  where 
The  great  cathedral's  west  window's  seen, — 
"I'll  plant  an  apple,"  said  Tucker  the  Dean. 

*This  tree,  known  among  gardeners  by  the  name  of  "  Winter-hanger  "    or  "  Forbidden  Fruit,"  was 
planted  by  Dean  Tucker  in  1760.     It,  or  an  off  shoot  from  it,  still  exists  in  the  city  of  Gloucester. 


96  THE  WONDERFUL  APPLE-TREE 

The  apple  was  planted,  the  apple  grew, 
A  stout  young  tree,  full  of  leaves  not  few; 
The  apple  was  grafted,  the  apple  bore 
Of  goodly  apples,  one,  two,  three,  four. 

The  old  Dean  walked  in  his  garden  fair, 

"Im  glad  I  planted  that  young  tree  there, 

Though  it  was  but  a  shoot,  or  some  old  tree  s  sucker ; 

I'll  taste  it  to-morrow,"  said  good  Dean  Tucker. 

But  lo,  in  the  night  when  (they  say)  trees  talk, 
And  some  of  the  liveliest  get  up  and  walk, 
With  fairies  abroad  for  watch  and  warden — 
There  was  such  a  commotion  in  the  Dean's  garden! 

"I  will  not  be  gathered,"  the  apple-tree  said, 

"Was  it  for  this  I  blossomed  so  red? 

Hung  out  my  fruit  all  the  summer  days, 

Got  so  much  sunshine,  and  pleasure  and  praise?" 

"Ah!"  interrupted  a  solemn  red  plum      , 

"This  is  the  end  to  which  all  of  us  come; 

Last  month  I  was  laden  with  hundreds — but  now" — 

And  he  sighed  the  last  little  plum  off  from  his  bough. 

"Nay,  friend,  take  it  easy,"  the  pear-tree  replied 

(A  lady-like  person  against  the  wall-side). 

"Man  guards,  nurtures,  trains  us  from  top  down  to 

root: 
I  think  'tis  but  fair  we  should  give  him  our  fruit." 


THE   WONDERFUL  APPLE-TREE  97 

"No,  I'll  not  be  gathered,"  the  apple  resumed, 
And  shook  his  young  branches,  and  fluttered  and 

fumed ; 

"And  I'll  not  drop  neither,  as  some  of  you  drop, 
Over-ripe :     I'm  determined  to  keep  my  whole  crop. 

"And  I  with' — O'er  his  branches  just  then  some- 
thing flew; 

It  seemed  like  moth,  large  and  grayish  of  hue. 
But  it  was  a  Fairy.  Her  voice  soft  did  sound, 
"Be  the  tree  that  bears  apples  all  the  year  round." 


The  Dean  to  his  apple-tree,  came,  full  of  hope, 
But  tough  was  the  fruit-stalk  as  double-twist  rope, 
And  when  he  had  cut  it  with  patience  and  pain, 
He  bit  just  one  mouthful — and  never  again. 

"An  apple  so  tasteless,  so  juiceless,  so  hard, 

Is,  sure,  good  for  nought  but  to  bowl  in  the  yard; 

The  choir-boys  may  have  it."     But  choir  boys  soon 

found 
It  was  worthless — the  tree  that  bore  all  the  year 

round. 

And  Gloster  lads  climbing  the  Deanery  wall 
Were  punished,  as  well  might  all  young  theives 
appal, 


98  THE   JEALOUS  BOY 

For,  clutching  the  booty  for  which  they  did  sin, 
They  bit  at  the  apples — and  left  their  teeth  in! 

And  thus  all  the  year  from  October  till  May, 
From  May  till  October,  the  apples  shone  gay; 
But  't  was  just  outside  glitter,  for  no  hand  was 

found 
To  pluck  at  the  fruit  which  hung  all  the  year 

round. 

And  so  till  they  rotted,  those  queer  apples  hung, 
The  bare  boughs  and  blossoms  and  ripe  fruit  among 
And  in  Gloster  city  it  still  may  be  found — 
The  tree  that  bears  apples  all  the  year  round. 


THE   JEALOUS  BOY 

WHAT,  my  little  foolish  Ned, 

Think  you  mother's  eyes  are  blind, 
That  her  heart  has  grown  unkind, 

And  she  will  not  turn  her  head, 
Cannot  see,  for  all  her  joy, 
Her  poor  jealous  little  boy? 

What  though  sister  be  the  pet — 

Laughs,  and  leaps,  and  clings,  and  loves, 
With  her  eyes  as  soft  as  dove's — 


THE   STORY  OF  THE   BIRKENHEAD 

Why  should  yours  with  tears  be  wet? 
Why  such  angry  tears  let  fallP 
Mother's  heart  has  room  for  all. 


Mother's  heart  is  very  wide, 
And  its  doors  all  open  stand: 
Lightest  touch  of  tiniest  hand 

She  will  never  put  aside. 
Why  her  happiness  destroy, 
Foolish,  naughty,  jealous  boy? 

Come  within  the  circle  bright, 

Where  we  laugh,  and  dance,  and  sing, 

Full  of  love  to  everything; 
As  God  loves  us,  day  and  night, 

And  forgives  us.     Come — with  joy 

Mother  too  forgives    her  boy. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE   BIRKENHEAD 

TOLD    TO   TWO    CHILDREN 

AND  so  you  want  fairy  a  tale, 

My  little  maidens  twain? 
Well,  sit  beside  the  waterfall, 
Noisy  with  last  night's  rain; 


100  THE  STORY  OF  THE  BIRKENHEAD 

On  couch  of  moss,  with  elfin  spears 

Bristling,  all  fierce  to  see, 
When  from  the  yet  brown  moor  down  drops 

The  lonely  April  bee. 

All  the  wide  valley  blushes  green, 

While,  in  far  depths  below, 
Wharfe  flashes  out  a  great  bright  eye, 

Then  hides  his  shining  flow; — 

Wharfe,  busy,  restless,  rapid  Wharfe, 

The  glory  of  our  dale; 
O  I  could  of  the  River  Wharfe 

Tell  such  a  fairy  tale! 

"The  Boy  of  Egremond,"  you  cry, — 
"And  all  the  'bootless  bene:' 

We  know  that  poem,  every  word, 
And  we  the  Strid  have  seen." 

No,  clever  damsels:  though  the  tale 

Seems  still  to  bear  a  part, 
In  every  lave  of  Wharfe's  bright  wave, 

The  broken  mother's  heart — 

Little  you  know  of  broken  hearts, 

My  Kitty,  blithe  and  wise, 
Grave  Mary,  with  the  woman  soul 

Dawning  through  childish  eyes. 


THE  STORY   OF  THE   BIRKENHEAD  loi 

And  long,  long  distant  may  God  keep 

The  day  when  each  shall  know 
The  entrance  to  His  kingdom  through 

His  baptism  of  woe! 

But  yet  'tis  good  to  hear  of  grief 

Which  He  permits  to  be; 
Even  as  in  our  green  inland  home 

We  talk  of  wrecks  at  sea. 

So  on  this  lovely  day,  when  spring 

Wakes  soft  o'er  moor  and  dale, 
I'll  tell— not  quite  your  wish — but  yet 

A  noble  "fairy"  tale. 


'Twas  six  o'clock  in  the  morning, 

The  sea  like  crystal  lay, 
When  the  good  troop-ship  Birkenhead 

Set  sail  from  Simon's  Bay. 

The  Cape  of  Good  Hope  on  her  right 
Gloomed  at  her  through  the  noon: 

Brief  tropic  twilight  fled,  and  night 
Fell  suddenly  and  soon. 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening 
Dim  grew  the  pleasant  land; 

O'er  smoothest  seas  the  southern  heaven 
Its  starry  arch  out-spanned. 


19€  THE  STORY  OF  THE   BIRKENHEAD 

The  soldiers  on  the  bulwarks  leaned, 
Smoked,  chatted;  and  below 

The  soldiers'  wives  sang  babes  to  sleep, 
While  on  the  ship  sailed  slow. 

Six  hundred  and  thirty  souls  held  she, 
Good,  bad,  old,  young,  rich,  poor; 

Six  hundred  and  thirty  living  souls — 
God  knew  them  all. — Secure 

He  counted  them  in  His  right  hand, 
That  held  the  hungering  seas; 

And  to  four  hundred  came  a  voice — 
"The  Master  hath  need  of  these." 


On,  onward,  still  the  vessel  went 

Till,  with  a  sudden  shock, 
Like  one  that's  clutched  by  unseen  Death, 

She  struck  upon  a  rock. 

She  filled.     Not  hours,  not  minutes  left; 

Each  second  a  life's  gone: 
Drowned  in  their  berths,  washed  overboard, 

Lost,  swimming,  one  by  one; 

Till,  o'er  this  chaos  of  despair 

Rose,  like  celestial  breath, 
The  law  of  order,  discipline, 

Obedience  unto  death. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  BIRKENHEAD  103 

The  soldiers  mustered  upon  deck, 

As  mute  as  on  parade; 
" Women  and  children  to  the  boats!" 

And  not  a  man  gainsay ed. 

Without  a  murmur  or  a  moan 

They  stood,  formed  rank  and  file, 
Between  the  dreadful  crystal  seas 

And  the  sky's  dreadful  smile. 

In  face  of  death  they  did  their  work 

As  they  in  life  would  do, 
Embarking  at  a  quiet  quay — 

A  quiet,  silent  crew. 

"Now  each  man  for  himself.     To  the  boats!" 

Arose  a  passing  cry. 
The  soldier-captain  answered,  "Swamp 

The  women  and  babes? — No,  die!" 

And  so  they  died.     Each  in  his  place, 

Obedient  to  command, 
They  went  down  with  the  sinking  ship, 

Went  down  in  sight  of  land. 

The  great  sea  oped  her  mouth,  and  closed 

O'er  them.     Awhile  they  trod 
The  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 

And  then  were  safe  with  God. 


104  THE   STORY  OF  THE  BIRKENHEAD 

My  little  girlies — What!  your  tears 

Are  dropping  on  the  grass, 
Over  my  more  than  "fairy"  tale, 

A  tale  that  "really  was!" 

Nay,  dry  them.     If  we  could  but  see 

The  joy  in  angels'  eyes 
O'er  good  lives,  or  heroic  deaths 

Of  pure  self-sacrifice, — 

We  should  not  weep  o'er  these  that  sleep — 
Their  short,  sharp  struggle  o'er — 

Under  the  rolling  waves  that  break 
Upon  the  Afric  shore. 

God  works  not  as  man  works,  nor  sees 
As  man  sees:  though  we  mark 

Ofttimes  the  moving  of  His  hands 
Beneath  the  eternal  Dark. 

But  yet  we  know  that  all  is  well 
That  He,  who  loved  all  these, 

Loves  children  laughing  on  the  moor, 
Birds  singing  in  the  trees; 

That  He  who  made  both  life  and  death, 

He  knoweth  which  is  best: 
We  live  to  Him,  we  die  to  Him, 

And  leave  Him  all  tbe  rest. 


BIRDS  IN  THE  SNOW  105 

BIRDS  IN  THE  SNOW 

CHILD 

I  WISH  I  were  a  little  bird 

When  the  sun  shines 
And  the  wind  whispers  low, 

Through  the  tall  pines, 
I'd  rock  in  the  elm  tops, 

Rifle  the  pear-tree, 
Hide  in  the  cherry  boughs, 

O  such  a  rare  tree! 

I  wish  I  were  a  little  bird; 

All  summer  long 
I'd  fly  so  merrily 

Sing  such  a  song! 
Song  that  should  never  cease 

While  daylight  lasted, 
Wings  that  should  never  tire 
Howe'er  they  hasted. 

MOTHER 
But  if  you  were  a  little  bird — 

My  baby-blossom. 
Nestling  so  cosily 

In  mother's  bosom, — 
A  bird,  as  we  see  them  now, 

When  the  snows  harden, 
And  the  wind's  blighting  breath 
Howls  round  the  garden; 


106  BIRDS  IN  THE  SNOW 

What  would  you  do,  poor  bird, 

In  winter  drear? 
No  nest  to  creep  into, 

No  mother  near: 
Hungry  and  desolate, 

Weary  and  woeful, 
All  the  earth  bound  with  frost, 

All  the  sky  snow-full? 

CHILD  (thoughtfully}. 

That  would  be  sad,  and  yet 

Hear  what  I'd  do- 
Mother,  in  winter  time 

I'd  come  to  you! 
If  you  can  like  the  birds 

Spite  of  their  thieving, 
Give  them  your  trees  to  build, 

Garden  to  live  in, 


I  think  if  I  were  a  bird 

When  winter  comes 
Fd  trust  you,  mother  dear, 

For  a  few  crumbs, 
Whether  I  sang  or  not, 

Were  lark,  thrush,  or  starling. 

MOTHER  (aside), 

Then— Father— I  trust  Thee 
With  this  my  darling. 


THE   LITTLE   COMFORTER  107 

THE   LITTLE   COMFORTER 

"WHAT  is  wrong  with  my  big  brother?" 

Says  the  child; 

For  they  two  had  got  no  mother 
And  she  loved  him  like  no  other: 

If  he  smiled, 

All  the  world  seemed  bright  and  gay 
To  this  happy  little  May. 

If  to  her  he  sharply  spoke, 

This  big  brother — 
Then  her  tender  heart  nigh  broke; 
But  the  cruel  pain  that  woke, 

She  would  smother — 
As  a  little  woman  can;— 
Was  he  not  almost  a  man? 

But  when  trouble  or  disgrace 

Smote  the  boy, 

She  would  lift  her  gentle  face — 
Surely  'twas  her  own  right  place. 

To  bring  joy? 

For  she  loved  him — loved  him  sol 
Whether  he  was  good  or  no 

May  be  he  will  never  feel 

Half  her  love; 
Wound  her,  and  forget  to  heal: 


DON'T  BE  AFRAID 

Idle  words  are  sharp  as  steel: 

But  above, 

I  know  what  the  angels  say 
Of  this  silent  little  May. 


DON'T  BE  AFRAID. 

DON'T  be  afraid  of  the  dark, 

My  daughter,  dear  as  my  soul! 
You  see  but  a  part  of  the  gloomy  world, 

But  I — I  have  seen  the  whole, 
And  I  know  each  step  of  the  fearsome  way, 
Till  the  shadows  brighten  to  open  day. 

Don't  be  afraid  of  pain, 
My  tender  little  child: 

When  its  smart  is  worst  there  comes  strength  to  bear, 
And  it  seems  as  if  angels  smiled, — 
As  I  smile,  dear,  when  I  hurt  you  now. 
In  binding  up  that  wound  on  your  brow. 

Don't  be  afraid  of  grief, 

'Twill  come — as  night  follows  day, 
But  the  bleakest  sky  has  tiny  rifts 
When  the  stars  shine  through — as  to  say 
Wait,  wait  a  little — till  night  is  o'er 
And  beautiful  day  come  back  once  more." 


GIRL  AND   BOY  109 

O  child,  be  afraid  of  sin, 

But  have  no  other  fear, 
For  God's  in  the  dark,  as  well  as  the  light; 

And  while  we  can  feel  Him  near, 
His  hand  that  He  gives,  His  love  that  He  gave, 

Lead  safely,  even  to  the  dark  of  the  grave. 


GIRL  AND  BOY 

ALFRED  is  gentle  as  a  girl, 
But  Judith  longs  to  be  a  boy! 

Would  cut  off  every  pretty  curl 
With  eager  joy! 

Hates  to  be  called  "my  dear" — or  kissed: 
For  dollies  does  not  care  one  fig: 

Goes,  sticking  hands  up  to  the  wrist 
In  jackets  big. 

Would  like  to  do  whate'er  boy  can; 

Play  cricket — even  to  go  school: 
It  is  so  grand  to  be  a  man! 

A  girl's  a  fool! 

But  Alfred  smiles  superior  love 
On  all  these  innocent  vagaries. 


110  AGNES  AT  PRAYER 

He'd  hate  a  goose!  but  yet  a  dove 
Ah,  much  more  rare  is! 

She's  anything  but  dove,  good  sooth! 

But  she's  his  dear  and  only  sister: 
And,  had  she  been  a  boy,  in  truth 

How  he'd  have  missed  her. 

So,  gradually  her  folly  dies, 

And  she'll  consent  to  be  just  human, 

When  there  shines  out  of  girlish  eyes 
The  real  Woman. 


AGNES  AT  PRAYER 

"OuR  Father  which  art  in  heaven," 

Little  Agnes  prays, 
Though  her  kneeling  is  but  show, 
Though  she  is  too  young  to  know 

All,  or  half  she  says. 
God  will  hear  her,  Agnes  mild, 
God  will  love  the  innocent  child. 

"Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven." 

She  has  a  father  here, 
Does  she  think  of  his  kind  eyes, 
Tones  that  ne'er  in  anger  rise — 


GOING  TO  WORK 

"Yes,  dear,''  or  "No,  dear." 
They  will  haunt  her  whole  life  long 
Like  a  sweet  pathetic  song. 

"Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven," 
Through  thy  peaceful  prayer, 
Think  of  the  known  father's  face, 
Of  his  bosom,  happy  place; 
Safely  sheltered  there; 
And  so  blessed — long  may  He  bless! 
Think  loo  of  the  fatherless. 


COME  along  for  the  work  is  ready- 
Rough  it  may  be,  rough,  tough  and  hard — 

But — fourteen  years  old — stout,  strong  and  steady, 
Life's  game  s  beginning,  lad ! — play  your  card — 
Come  along. 

Mother  stands  at  the  door-step  crying 
Well  but  she  has  a  brave  heart  too: 

She'll  try  to  be  glad — there's  nought  like  trying, 
She's  proud  of  having  a  son  like  you. 
Come  along. 


US  THREE   COMPANIONS 

Young  as  she  is,  her  hair  is  whitening, 

She  has  ploughed  thro'  years  of  sorrow  deep, 

She  looks  at  her  boy,  and  her  eyes  are  brightening, 
Shame  if  ever  you  make  them  weep! 
Come  along. 

Bravo!     See  how  the  brown  cheek  flushes! 

Ready    to  work  as  hard  as  you  can  ? 
I  have  always  faith  in  a  boy  that  blushes, 

None  will  blush  for  him,  when  he's  a  man. 
Come  along. 


THREE  COMPANIONS 

WE  go  on  our  way  together, 

Baby,  and  dog,  and  I; 
Three  merry  companions, 

'Neath  any  sort  of  sky; 
Blue  as  her  pretty  eyes  are, 

Or  gray,  like  his  dear  old  tail; 
Be  it  windy,  or  cloudy,  or  stormy, 

Our  courage  does  never  fail. 

Sometimes  the  snow  lies  thickly, 
Under  the  hedge-row  bleak; 

Then  baby  cries  "Pretty,  pretty," 
The  only  word  she  can  speak. 


THE   MOTHERLESS  CHILD 

Sometimes  two  rivers  of  water 

Run  down  the  muddy  lane; 
Then  dog  leaps  backwards  and  forwards 

Barking  with  might  and  ma  n. 

Baby's  a  little  lady, 

Dog  is  a  gentleman  brave: 
If  he  had  two  legs  as  you  have 

He'd  kneel  to  her  like  a  slave; 
As  it  is  he  loves  and  protects  her, 

As  dog  and  gentleman  can; 
I'd  rather  be  a  kind  doggie 

I  think,  than  a  brute  of  a  man. 


THE  MOTHERLESS   CHILD 

SHE  was  going  home  down  the  lonely  street, 

A  widow- woman  with  weary  feet 

And  weary  eyes  that  seldom  smiled: 

She  had  neither  mother,  sister,  nor  child. 

She  earned  her  bread  with  a  patient  heart, 

And  ate  it  quietly  and  apart, 

In  her  silent  home  from  day  to  day, 

No  one  to  say  her  "ay,"  or  "nay." 

She  was  going  home  without  care  to  haste; 
What  should  she  haste  for?     On  she  paced 


714  THE  MOTHERLESS  CHILD 

Through  the  snowy  night  so  bleak  and  wild, 

When  she  thought  she  heard  the  cry  of  a  child, 

A  feeble  cry,  not  of  hunger  or  pain, 

But  just  of  sorrow.     It  came  again. 

She  stopped— she  listened — she  almost  smiled — 

"That  sounds  like  a  wail  of  a  motherless  child.' 

A  house  stood  open — no  soul  was  there— 
Her  dull,  tired  feet  grew  light  on  the  stair; 
She  mounted — entered.     One  bed  on  the  floor, 
And  Something  in  it:  and  close  by  the  door, 
Watching  the  stark  form,  stretched  out  still, 
Ignorant  knowing  not  good  nor  ill, 
But  only  a  want  and  a  misery  wild, 
Crouched  the  dead  mother's  motherless  child. 

What  next?     Come  say  what  would  you  have 

done 

Dear  children  playing  about  in  the  sun, 
Or  sitting  by  pleasant  fireside  warm, 
Hearing  outside  the  howling  storm? 
The  widow  went  in  and  she  shut  the  door, 
She  stayed  by  the  dead  an  hour  or  more— 
And  when  she  went  home  through  the  night  so 

wild, 
She  had  in  her  arms  a  sleeping  child. 

Now  she  is  old  and  feeble  and  dull, 
But  her  empty  heart  is  happy  and  full 


THE   WREN'S  NEST  115 

K  her  crust  be  hard  and  her  cottage  poor 
There's  a  young  foot  tripping  across  the  floor, 
Young  hands  to  help  her  that  never  tire, 
And  a  young  voice  singing  beside  the  fire; 
And  her  tired  eyes  look  as  if  they  smiled, — 
Childless  mother  and  motherless  child. 


THE  WREN'S  NEST 

I  TOOK  the  wren's  nest; — 

Heaven  forgive  me! 
Its  merry  architects  so  small 
Had  scarcely  finished  their  wee  hall, 
That  empty  still  and  neat  and  fair 
Hung  idly  in  the  summer  air. 
The  mossy  walls,  the  dainty  door, 
Where  Love  should  enter  and  explore, 
And  Love  sit  caroling  outside, 
And  Love  within  chirp  multiplied; — 

I  took  the  wren's  nest; — 

Heaven  forgive  me! 

How  many  hours  of  happy  pains 
Through  early  frosts  and  April  rains, 
How  many  songs  at  eve  and  morn 
O'er  springing  grass  and  greening  corn, 


11«  A  CHILD'S   SMILE 

Before  the  pretty  house  was  made! 

One  little  minute,  only  one, 

And  she'll  fly  back,  and  find  it — gone! 

I  took  the  wren's  nest; — 

Bird,  forgive  me! 

Thou  and  thy  mate,  sans  let,  sans  fear, 
Ye  have  before  you  al    the  year, 
And  every  wood  holds  nooks  for  you, 
In  which  to  sing  and  bui  d  and  woo 
One  piteous  cry  of  birdish  pain — 
And  ye'll  begin  your  life  again, 
Forgetting  quite  the  lost,  lost  home 
In  many  a  busy  home  to  come — 
But  I? — Your  wee  house  keep  I  must 
Until  it  crumble  into  du  t. 

I  took  the  wren's  nest: 

God  forgive  me! 


A  CHILD'S  SMIL 

A  CHILD'S  smile — nothing  more; 

Quiet  and  soft  and  grave,  and  seldom  seen, 

Like  summer  lightning  o'er, 

Leaving  the  little  face  again  serene, 


I  think,  boy  well-beloved, 

Thine  angel,  who  did  grieve  to  see  how  far 

Thy  childhood  is  removed 

From  sports  that  dear  to  other  children  are, 

On  this  pale  cheek  has  thrown 

The  brightness  of  his  countenance,  and  made 

A  beauty  like  his  own — 

That,  while  we  see  it,  we  are  half  afraid, 

And  marvel,  will  it  stay? 

Or,  long  ere  manhood,  will  that  angel  fair, 

Departing  some  sad  day, 

Steal  the  child-smile  and  leave  the  shadow  care? 

Nay,  fear  not.     As  is  given 

Unto  this  child  the  father  watching  o'er, 

His  angel  up  in  heaven 

Beholds  Our  Father's  face  for  evermore. 

And  he  will  help  him  bear 

His  burthen,  as  his  father  helps  him  now; 

So  he  may  come  to  wear 

That  happy  child-smile  on  an  old  man's  brow. 


OVER  THE  HILLS  AND  FAR  AWAY 


OVER  THE  HILLS  AND  FAR  AWAY 

A  LITTLE  bird  flew  my  window  by, 
'Twixt  the  level  street  and  the  level  sky, 
The  level  rows  of  houses  tall, 
The  long  low  sun  on  the  level  wall 
And  all  that  the  little  bird  did  say 
Was,  "Over  the  hills  and  far  away." 

A  little  bird  sang  behind  my  chair, 
From  the  level  line  of  corn-fields  fair, 
The  smooth  green  hedgegrow's  level  bound 
Not  a  furlong  off— the  horizon's  bound, 
And  the  level  lawn  where  the  sun  all  day 
Burns: — "Over  the  hills  and  far  away." 

A  little  bird  sings  above  my  bed, 

And  I  know  if  I  could  but  lift  my  head 

I  would  see  the  sun  set,  round  and  grand, 

Upon  level  sea  and  level  sand, 

While  beyond  the  misty  distance  gray 

Is  "Over  the  hills  and  far  away." 

I  think  that  a  little  bird  will  sing 

Over  a  grassy  mound,  next  spring, 

Where  something  that  once  was  me,  ye'll  leave 

In  the  level  sunshine,  morn  and  eve: 

But  I  shall  be  gone,  past  night,  past  day, 

Over  the  hills  and  far  away. 


THE   TWO   RAINDROPS 


THE  TWO  RAINDROPS 

SAID  a  drop  to  a  drop,  "Just  look  at  me! 
I'm  the  finest  rain-drop  you  ever  did  see: 
I  have  lived  ten  seconds  at  least  on  my  pane; 
Swelling  and  filling  and  swelling  again. 

"All  the  little  rain-drops  unto  me  run, 

I  watch  them  and  catch  them  and  suck  them  up  each  one: 

All  the  pretty  children  stand  and  at  me  stare; 

Pointing  with  their  fingers — *  That's  the  biggest  drop   there." 

'Yet  you  are  but  a  drop,"  the  small  drop  replied; 
"I  don't  myself  see  much  cause  for  pride: 
The  bigger  you  swell  up, — we  know  well,  my  friend, — 
The  faster  you  run  down  the  sooner  you'll  end. 

"For  me,  I'm  contented  outside  on  my  ledge, 
Hearing  the  patter  of  rain  in  the  hedge; 
Looking  at  the  firelight  and  the  children  fair, — 
Whether  they  look  at  me,  I'm  sure  I  don't  care." 

"Sir,"  cried  the  first  drop,  "your  talk  is  but  dull; 
I  can't  wait  to  listen,  for  I'm  almost  full; 
You'll  run  a  race  with  me? — No? — Then  'tis  plain 
I  am  the  largest  drop  in  the  whole  pane." 


120  THE   YEAR'S  END 


Off  ran  the  big  drop,  at  first  rather  slow: 
Then  faster  and  faster,  as  drops  will,  you  know: 
Raced  down  the  window-pane,  like  hundreds  before, 
Just  reached  the  window-sill — one  splash — and  was  o'er. 


THE   YEAR'S  END 

So  grows  the  rising  year,  and  so  declines 

By  months,  weeks,  days,  unto  its  peaceful  end* 

Even  as  by  slow  and  ever-varying  signs 

Through  childhood,  youth,  our  solemn  steps  we  bend 
Up  to  the  crown  of  life,  and  thence  descend. 

Great  Father,  who  of  every  one  takest  care, 
From  him  on  whom  full  ninety  years  are  piled 

To  the  young  babe,  just  taught  to  lisp  a  prayer 
About  the  "Gentle  Jesus,  meek  and  mild," 
Who  children  loves,  being  once  himself  a  child, — 

O  make  us  day  by  day  like  Him  to  grow; 
More  pure  and  good,  more  dutiful  and  meek; 

Because  He  loves  those  who  obey  Him  so; 
Because  His  love  is  the  best  thing  to  seek, 
Because  without  His  love,  all  loves  are  weak, — 

All  earthly  joys  are  miserable  and  poor, 

All  earthly  goodness  quickly  droops  and  dies, 


RUNNING  AFTER  THE  RAINBOW 

Like  rootless  flowers  you  plant  in  gardens — sure 
That  they  will  flourish — till  in  mid-day  skies 
The  sun  burns,  and  they  fade  before  your  eyes. 

O  God,  who  art  alone  the  life  and  light 

Of  this  strange  world  to  which  as  babes  we  come, 

Keep  Thou  us  always  children  in  Thy  sight: 

Guide  us  from  year  to  year,  thro'  shine  and  gloom 
And  at  our  year's  end,  Father,  take  us  home. 


RUNNING  AFTER  THE  RAINBOW 

"WHY  thus  aside  your  playthings  throw, 
Over  the  wet  lawn  hurrying  so? 
Where  are  you  going,  I  want  to  know?" 
"I'm  running  after  the  rainbow." 

"Little  boy,  with  your  bright  brown  eyes 
Full  of  an  innocent  surprise, 
Stop  a  minute,  my  Arthur  wise, 

What  do  you  want  with  the  rainbow?" 

Arthur  paused  in  his  headlong  race, 
Turned  to  his  mother  his  hot,  young  face, 
"Mother,  I  want  to  reach  the  place 
At  either  end  of  the  rainbow. 


122  RUNNING  AFTER  THE  RAINBOW 

"  Nurse  says,  wherever  it  meets  the  ground. 
Such  beautiful  things  may  oft  be  found 
Buried  below,  or  scattered  round, 
If  one  can  but  catch  the  rainbow. 

"O  please  don't  hinder  me,  mother  dear, 
It  will  all  be  gone  while  I  stay  here;" 
So  with  many  a  hope  and  not  one  fear, 
The  child  ran  after  the  rainbow. 

Over  the  damp  grass,  ankle  deep, 
Clambering  up  the  hilly  steep, 

And  the  wood  where  the  birds  were  going  to  sleep, 
But  he  couldn't  catch  the  rainbow. 

And  when  he  came  out  at  the  wood's  far  side, 
The  sun  was  setting  in  golden  pride, 
There  were  plenty  of  clouds  all  rainbow  dyed, 
But  not  a  sign  of  the  rainbow. 

Said  Arthur,  sobbing,  as  home  he  went, 
"I  wish  I  had  thought  what  mother  meant; 
I  wish  I  had  only  been  content, 
And  not  ran  after  the  rainbow." 

And  as  he  came  sadly  down  the  hill, 
Stood  mother  scolding — but  smiling  still, 
And  hugged  him  up  close,  as  mothers  will: 
So  he  quite  forgot  the  rainbow. 


DICK   AND   I 


DICK  AND   I 

WE'RE  going  to  a  party,  my  brother  Dick  and  I: 
The  best,  grandest  party  we  ever  did  try: 
And  I'm  very  happy — but  Dick  is  so  shy! 

I've  got  a  white  ball-dress,  and  flowers  in  my  hair, 
And  a  scarf,  with  a  brooch  too,  mamma  let  me  wear: 
Silk  stockings,  and  shoes  with  high  heels,  I  declare! 

There  is  to  be  music — a  real  soldier's  band: 

And  /  mean  to  waltz,  and  eat  ice,  and  be  fanned, 

Like  a  grown-up  young  lady,  the  first  in  the  land. 

But  Dick  is  so  stupid,  so  silent  and  shy: 

Has  never  learnt  dancing,  so  says  he  won't  try — 

Yet  Dick  is  both  older  and  wiser  than  I. 

And  I'm  fond  of  my  brother — this  darling  old  Dick: 

I'll  hunt  him  in  corners  wherever  he  stick, 

He's  bad  at  a  party — but  at  school  he's  a  brick! 

So  good  at  his  Latin,  at  cricket,  football, 
Whatever  he  tries  at.     And  then  he's  so  tall! 
Yet  at  play  with  the  children  he's  best  of  us  all. 


124  GRANDPAPA 

And  his  going  to  the  party  is  just  to  please  me, 
Poor  Dick!  so  good-natured.     How  dull  he  will  be! 
But  he  says  I  shall  dance  "like  a  wave  o'  the  sea." 

That's  Shakespeare,  his  Shakespeare,  he  worships  him  so. 
Our  Dick  he  writes  poems,  though  none  will  he  show; 
I  found  out  his  secret,  but  I  won't  tell:  no,  no. 

And  when  he's  a  great  man,  a  poet  you  see, 
O  dear!  what  a  proud  little  sister  I'll  be; 
Hark!  there  comes  the  carriage.     We're  off,  Dick  and 
me. 


GRANDPAPA 

GRANDPAPA  lives  at  the  end  of  the  lane, 
His  cottage  is  small  and  its  furniture  plain; 
No  pony  to  ride  on,  no  equipage  grand, — 
A  garden,  and  just  half  an  acre  of  land; 
No  dainties  to  dine  off,  and  very  few  toys, — 
Yet  is  grandpapa's  house  the  delight  of  the  boys. 

Grandpapa  once  lived  in  one  little  room, 
Grandpapa  worked  all  day  long  at  his  loom: 
He  speaks  with  queer  accent,  does  dear  grandpapa, 
And  not  half  so  well  as  papa  and  mamma. 


MONSIEUR  ET  MADEMOISELLE  125 

The  girls  think  his  clothes  are  a  little  rough, 

But  the  boys  all  declare  they  can't  love  him  enough. 

• 

A  man  of  the  people  in  manners  and  mind, 
Yet  so  honest,  so  tender,  so  clever,  so  kind: 
Makes  the  best  of  his  lot  still,  where'er  it  be  cast. 
A  sturdy  old  Englishman,  game  to  the  last. 
Though  simple  and  humble  and  unknown  to  fame, 
It's  good  luck  to  the  boys  to  bear  grandpapa's  name! 


MONSIEUR  ET  MADEMOISELLE. 

DEUX  petits  enfants  Francais, 

Monsieur  et  Mademoiselle. 
Of  what  can  they  be  talking,  child? 

Indeed  I  cannot  tell. 
But  of  this  I  am  very  certain, 

You  would  find  naught  to  blame 
In  that  sweet  French  politeness — 

I  wish  we  had  the  same. 

Monsieur  has  got  a  melon, 
And  scoops  it  with  his  knife, 

While  Mademoiselle  sits  watching  him: 
No  rudeness  here — no  strife: 


126  MONSIEUR  ET  MADEMOISELLE 

Though  could  you  listen  only, 

They're  chattering  like  two  pies — 

French  magpies,  understand  me — 
So  merry  and  so  wise. 

Their  floor  is  bare  of  carpet, 

Their  curtains  are  so  thin, 
They  dine  on  meagre  potage,  and 

Put  many  an  onion  in! 
Her  snow-white  caps  she  irons: 

He  blacks  his  shoes,  he  can; 
Yet  she's  a  little  lady 

And  he's  a  gentleman. 

O  busy,  happy  children! 

That  light  French  heart  of  yours, 
Would  it  might  sometimes  enter  at 

Our  solemn  English  doors! 
Would  that  we  worked  as  gaily, 

And  played,  yes,  played  as  well, 
And  lived  our  lives  as  simply 

As  Monsieur  et  Mademoiselle. 


YOUNG  DANDELION 


J27 


YOUNG  DANDELION 


YOUNG  Dandelion 

On  a  hedge-side, 
Said  young  Dandelion, 

"Who'll  be  my  bride? 

"I'm  a  bold  fellow 

As  ever  was  seen, 
With  my  shield  of  yellow, 

In  the  grass  green. 

'You  may  uproot  me, 
From  field  and  from  lane, 

Trample  me,  cut  me, — 
I  spring  up  again. 

"I  never  flinch,  Sir, 

Wherever  I  dwell; 
Give  me  an  inch,  Sir. 

I'll  soon  take  an  ell. 

"Drive  me  from  garden 
In  anger  and  pride, 

I'll  thrive  and  harden 
By  the  road-side. 

"Not  a  bit  fearful, 

Showing  my  face, 
Always  so  cheerful 

In  every  place." 


Said  young  Dandelion, 

With  a  sweet  air, 
"I  have  my  eye  on 

Miss  Daisy  fair. 

"Though  we  may  tarry 

Till  past  the  cold, 
Her  I  will  marry 

Ere  I  grow  old. 

"I  will  protect  her 

From  all  kinds  of  harm, 
Feed  her  with  nectar, 

Shelter  her  warm. 

"Whate'er  the  weather, 

Let  it  go  by; 
We'll  hold  together, 

Daisy  and  I. 

"I'll  ne'er  give  in, — no! 

Nothing  I  fear: 
All  that  I  win,  O! 

I'll  keep  for  my  dear." 

Said  young  Dandelion 
On  his  hedge-side, 

"WTho'll  me  rely  on? 
Who'll  be  my  bride?" 


1S8  A  SEPTEMBER  ROBIN 


A  SEPTEMBER  ROBIN 

MY  eyes  are  full,  my  silent  heart  is  stirred, 
Amid  these  days  so  bright 
Of  ceaseless  warmth  and  light; 
Summer  that  will  not  die, 
Autumn,  without  one  sigh 
O'er  sweet  hours  passing  by- 
Cometh  that  tender  note 
Out  of  thy  tiny  throat, 

Like  grief,  or  love,  insisting  to  be  heard, 

O  little  plaintive  bird! 

No  need  of  word 

Well  know  I  all  your  tale — forgotten  bird! 
Soon  you  and  I  together 
Must  face  the  winter  weather, 
Remembering  how  we  sung 
Our  primrose  fields  among, 
In  days  when  life  was  young; 
Now,  all  is  growing  old, 
And  the  warm  earth's  a-cold, 

Still,  with  brave  heart  we'll  sing  on,  little  bird, 

Sing  only.     Not  one  word. 


UNIVERSITY  OP  CALIF  ^r^T 


LOAN  DEPT. 


T  r>  91  A-50w-4,'59 
^1724*10)4763 


GENERAL  LIBRARY -U.C.  BERKELEY 


261376 


THE 


^ORNIA  LIBRARY 


